


The Raven

by By_Noa



Series: In The Beginning [2]
Category: Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: AU Season 2 Premiere, Action, Angst, Animal Transformation, Character Study, Demons, Don't copy to another site, Drama, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV Multiple, Post-Season/Series 01, Religious Discussion, Romance, Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2020-02-16 06:35:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 65,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18686101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/By_Noa/pseuds/By_Noa
Summary: Sequel to Dick Grayson:While Rachel's powers may be growing beyond her control; elsewhere, Gar struggles with recent events, finding solace with an unlikely ally. Hank has a hard pill to swallow before he can move forward, and Dawn meets Kory.What's more, Donna makes a discovery, and Dick struggles with his leadership role. [No Major Character Deaths]





	1. Fallout

**Author's Note:**

> I am really challenging myself with this one, how to balance multiple characters, romance, action and plot. I'm having a blast, but wish me luck. 
> 
> Enjoy the ride!

Thud. Thud. Thud. 

Dick has a headache. He’s had a headache for days now, weeks even, if he’s counting the moment, he ran off with an orphan child, baring powers and emotional trauma. His eyes are dry and sticky, and his head feels like it’s being squeezed in a vice, as the searing pain reaches for every corner of his mind.

The mismatched group drone on in the background of his muddled thoughts, their voices dulled like his ears are full of water.

He makes a fist and breathes deep to still himself, mind and body. Bruce taught him a long time ago about the benefits of stillness while walking, eating, showering or fighting. He said if he conquered himself, then he could master self-control even in the middle of the most chaotic emotions, in crippling pain. So, he mediates.

And he breathes, blowing through the spasming of his chest muscles and the hot-white pain pooling around his left ankle as it swells. He can do this. He can do this because he has no other choice.

Thud. Thud. Thud. 

Their voices continue to overlap. He turns his attention to them. They’re all there, except one, Rachel, and he hopes to God, if there is one, he did the right thing following her lead. 

Now he has to tell Kory and the others what he did, what he _allowed_ Rachel to do, and he hasn’t found a way to say it yet. He watches closely, noting the way Gar has folded into himself on one half the couch, making himself as small as possible, while Kory measures her breathing as she leans against the wall, poised, attempting to hide how bruised and weakened she is. 

Dick swallows hard. He needs to hear her voice, know she’s okay, but even feet apart, she’s miles away now. He’s miles away, too, somewhere between the place he loved her and grieved her, and there, in the living room having a quiet anxiety attack about whether he did the right thing.

Dawn and Hank remain where the front door used to be, letting outside come in. The wind drifts towards him carrying with it, the smell of ash and dirt, and blood, and he shivers against it. Dawn seems reluctant to come any closer, as though she is wary of landmines beneath their feet while Jason paces, Dick assumes, because he has a lot of energy to expel after expecting a fight and missing it. He could tell them it wasn’t much of a fight but -

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Donna stands a short stride away from him, and he tries to remain still. Mostly because his ankle cries out every time he moves, but also because he doesn’t want anyone to worry about him. He is and should be the least of everyone’s concern. Rachel. She is the priority.

“Run that shit by me again,” Hank’s voice booms with cynicism. “Demons – really?”

“You think you’ve seen it all,” Donna says. “and then a teenage boy turns into a giant gorilla.”

Jason huffs. “I can’t believe I missed that shit,” he groans. “hey, beast boy, can you do it again, like on cue?” When Gar says nothing, he stops at his feet, leaning close, too close, and clicks his fingers. “Yo!”

“Hey,” Dick yells. “Leave him alone.”

“Oh, fuck, it speaks.” Hank spits. “Any genius ideas on how to take down a fucking demon, bird boy?”

“Cool it,” Donna glares from across the room at him, and Dick’s glad she’s there by his side. She always has been.

Dick cups the back of his neck and squeezes. Thud. Thud. Thud. “We need a plan of attack.”

“A plan of attack?” Dawn echoes, stepping a toe in front of her giant boyfriend. “Dick, what about Rachel – how do we find her? How do we know she’s okay? She reached out for me. Asked for my help. And she’s not here, so what do we do?”

“We find him,” Kory finally speaks, but her eyes are far away. “I turn him into dust this time.” And then she looks up. “There’s your plan.”

“That isn’t much of a plan.” Dawn says wearily. “I think we need to be on the defense.”

Kory leans off the wall. “No offense,” she starts, pinning Dawn where she stands with a curious look, taking her in. “You all look really cute in your outfits but can any of you fly, or go invisible, or turn into gorilla,” the silence answers her question, and she nods. “OK, then.”

Dick sighs. “Listen, Rachel is safe – in fact I think she’s our plan of attack. He needs something from her, if we find out what that is, we have a chance, maybe even an advantage.”

Hank raises a brow at that. “How?” He asks with exaggerated incredulity.

“We know Rachel. He doesn’t.” Kory says, and Dick nods.

“Speaking of this demon-daddy bullshit,” Jason slumps down on the arm of the sofa and Gar flinches. 

Dick thinks maybe he’s the only one who saw, but he catches Kory stiffen in response. He realises for a split second he’d forgotten Gar was a kid and his heart constricts a little. 

“What if Rachel’s gone dark. Joined her dad’s cause?” Jason continues.

“She hasn’t,” Gar retorts, speaking up for the first time.

Hank shrugs. “I’ve seen her in action. She can go pretty dark. Tear my kitchen up kind of dark.”

“She’s just a kid.” Dick asserts, resentfully.

“A kid that got inside Dawn’s head and brought her back. A kid who was able to put this chick,” Hank points to Kory. “inside your head to break her dad’s hold on your scrawny ass.”

“Dick,” Dawn’s voice is gentle when she speaks. “I think they have a point. She is a kid, but she’s not _just a kid_.” Glancing around the room, she adds, “we need to consider all the possibilities so we’re not running into anything blind.”

Gar stands suddenly, his chest heaving as the sheet barely clings to him. “None of you know her,” he says. “not like us. She went with her dad to save us, if she hadn’t you wouldn’t be talking to us right now.”

“No offense, kid,” Hank says with less charge in his voice. “Your feelings about her is the reason why you won’t consider it, ask the tough questions – but what if we save her and she does to us what her psychopath dad did to him?” he juts his chin out at Dick.

“I don’t care. She’s my friend. If she turns, I know we can get her back. Dick and Kory can. _I can_.” Gar’s chin quivers. “She _saved_ us.” He looks to Dick. “We have to save her back.”

“We will.” Dick promises. “Gar-,” before he can finish reassuring the kid, he’s drops the sheet and crouches down into a tiger. “Gar,” he calls after him as he leaps out of the hole in the wall, to the amazement of the others.

“Holy shit,” Jason shouts with laughter in his voice. “Nice.”

“What the actual fuck?” Hank cries, his eyes wide and his cheeks turning pink.

“Gar,” Kory calls after him, but he’s long gone. “Fuck.”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“This isn’t just about Rachel, it’s about the entire world being taken over by him.” Dick says. “I need you all on board.” He hops towards the door, with his hand pressed to his ribs.

“Where are you going?” Donna asks.

“After Gar,” Kory finishes. “I’ll come with you.”

“No.” Dick stops. His heart takes off in a race so fast, he almost loses what little balance he has trying to walk on his bum-ankle. “It’s okay,” he glances up at her briefly, and it becomes harder to breathe. “I’ll bring him back. Promise.”

Kory takes a step back and swallows, and he sees it, and he could die, again. “OK.” She says quietly, turning her ring around her finger.

Donna glances at him, and then Kory, and sighs. And he knows what she’s thinking: Typical. But this is anything but. He wishes it was, but he can only manage one thing at a time, one overwhelming emotion at a time, and Kory is a whole damn encyclopaedia of emotions he is already struggling to keep at bay.

Thud. Thud.

He stands in front of Hank and cups his shoulder, giving it a squeeze as he passes him. The angry blonde gives him a questioning look. “It’s good to see you. Really.” He doesn’t need an answer or reciprocity, him alive, is enough. 

“Hank is it?” Kory scrapes the purple sparkle from her nails. “It’s Kory.” She says, looking up at him. “Call me chick again and I’ll light you up for practice,” flashing her green eyes, she smiles and moves towards the kitchen.

“Noted.” Hank calls after her.

TTTTTTTTTTTT 

Kory enters the kitchen and glances over the body of the sheriff. She kneels beside him and gently brushes her fingers over the wound. The shirt is stuck to his body, hardened by the blood that drained from him, leaving his face white and the floor red. She takes a breath and stands up, unsure of what to feel about his death. Angela is the one who killed him, but somehow guilt stirs in her anyway.

She leans against the counter and lets the pain and exhaustion take her over. Hearing Dick’s voice outside, she presses onto her elbows and watches him through the window walk-limping in the distance. 

Her skin is tight and twitchy, and her heart is doing something it’s never done before; stuttering, hard. She drops her head low and breathes out, but her breaths are shaky and uneven, and she can’t seem to steady her hands even after she turns them into fists. She’s worried, and she has a lot to be worried about. Rachel is gone, Gar is spinning out and Dick – he’s avoiding her, she thinks, wonders.

They’ve been intimate before, quite a few times, and they’ve said things, too. But being inside of him, inside his mind, witnessing his memories as if they were her own, feeling them as if she was there and it was happening to her, well it was intimacy taken to new heights.

She knew his parents were dead. She knew he had issues with Bruce. She knew he was struggling with his identity after leaving Robin behind, but she didn’t _know_. She couldn’t.

Now she did. She really knew, she’d been there, felt it and seen it. All Dick’s pain. His abandonment, grief and fear. His rage. It had consumed her. Even now, free of him, she worries how he’s processing the emotional torture Trigon made him endure. And if it’s pulled him wide open or made him close himself off even tighter than before. 

The back of her eyes sting. Rachel is gone, and she should’ve done more to protect her. She should’ve fought harder to break through that shimmer, to get inside and stand with them. She never should’ve left Gar in that house with that woman and now he’s left with ramifications yet to unravel.

Rachel was alone with a monster and Gar was hurt, and she could’ve done more – she could’ve –

“Mind if I cut in,” Donna’s voice breaks through her mantra.

Kory straightens up and turns to Donna as she enters the kitchen. “Cut in?”

“You were in a world of your own for a minute there,” Donna says with a grimace as she lays eyes on the body. 

“Accurate,” Kory offers a smile. “A world called Tamaran.”

Donna glances over her shoulder and then takes a step closer. “We’re going to get Rachel back.”

Kory swallows, gently sucking her lower lip in and nods. “I know.” But what were they going to find when they did, a world on fire? Thousands of people who looked like Dick, vacant and under Trigon’s control? When. When were they going to get Rachel back? “I need to get some air.” 

“We made quite the team out there,” Donna says as Kory moves off the counter.

“Yeah,” Kory breathes out, and the frown lines disappear. “We did.”

Donna takes a step closer. “It’s not the only thing I’m good at – the fighting.” She shrugs. “Good at listening, too.”

Kory stills, and takes Donna in. Dick is the biggest dick she’s ever met. He has no idea how many good people he has around him, wanting to protect him and take care of him. People who care about him, like Donna, Rachel, and Gar, and …her. “Thanks Donna.”

Donna glances around and sings with relief when she spots the folded tablecloth on the counter. She flaps it open and gently draws it over the sheriff, and Kory helps her straighten it on him.

TTTTTTTTTTTT 

Gar had settled in the ramshackle barn several feet from the house and turned human. It felt different now, turning. He was taking a risk every time he shifted, and he had no idea what would be waiting for him on the other side. It was a game of Russian roulette, a coin toss and it terrified him. Maybe he was going to lose control of himself – maybe the Tiger was just the beginning and something more powerful and scarier was taking him over.

And if that was the case, was anyone safe around him?

His nose flares as the tears spill down his face. “Ow,” he winces as he leans back and feels a sharp scratch in his shoulder blade. He pushes his hand as far as it will go behind him to pull the splinter, he caught daring to lean against weather battered timber, but it remains out of his reach.

It burns, and he wriggles, and stretches and bends trying to get it, to no avail. A warm sensation takes him over, buzzing beneath his skin, growing hotter as he struggles and fails, until a ball of fire rises in his throat, and he roars. He roars so loud, the fragile barn rumbles around him.

And he jumps. Afraid of his own rage. His own growl.

The tears spring back and he pulls his scraped knees up into his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He doesn’t know how to do this, how to deal – he isn’t even sure what’s happening, but he feels the change in his body. Power unlike anything he ever felt before courses through him, growing and pulsing, and he doesn’t want this. It’s too much. 

His eyes wander the dimmed corner of the barn where old, flaky, coarse bristles lay dead and stacked hay leans against the feeble half-timbered walls, and Rachel comes to mind, the darkness, her eyes, her skin – that man’s words: “She can go pretty dark.”

“No,” he mutters, pulling his legs closer. He won’t think of her that way, he won’t. He knows she is good, and kind, and protective – and scared like he is.

Gar sniffles and quickly scrubs his face dry when he hears footsteps approaching. He doesn’t expect Dick when he limps in, and a sting of guilt rises in him for making the man come after him after what he’d just been through physically and mentally. 

“Are you okay?” Dick says, and then scoffs. He has a pile of clothes under his arm. “Stupid question.” He frowns, dropping them into his lap. “You’re bleeding,” and moves to Gar’s side, getting down on his knee with a hiss of pain. He’s gentle when he touches Gar’s shoulder. “You got a splinter. Hold still.”

Gar swallows and dips his head.

Dick plucks the splinter and lifts his shirt to dab away the blood Gar can smell. He could smell blood before, but now it smells stronger, sharper. “Got it.” He lands on his backside with a groan and rests his wrists on his knees. “It’s going to be okay, you know,” Dick assures.

Gar straightens his back and grabs the clothes, slinking back into the dark behind Dick. He slips into his jeans and throws his T-shirt on before reemerging. “You don’t know that,” he sighs. “Everything’s changed and it’s all my fault.”

Dick snaps his head up. Confusion twisting his face.

“All of it,” Gar whispers, slumping down beside Dick. “I went with Rachel to that asylum to get her mom out. I encouraged her. We ignored you and Kory and broke her free. I shouldn’t -,”

“Hey,” Dick sits forward. “None of this is your fault. You’re just a kid.”

“I wish you’d stop saying it like that,” Gar grunted. “I just turned into a gorilla. Rachel has powers we don’t understand, powers that saved you.” He swallows. “Your friend’s right about us, we’re not just kids.”

Dick nods, and a moment of silence falls between them. “What you can do -,” he starts. “What you _did_ do,”

“was terrifying,” Gar shudders out.

Dick turns to him. “Is that how you feel?” he asks. “Gar what you can do is – special.” He smiles, it’s small and measured but sincere. “But,” he adds. “You _are_ a kid. And everything that has happened – the motel, the asylum, last night, it’s a lot to take in or make sense of,”

“I’m fine,” Gar answers hurriedly. He has to be because he’s afraid of what not being fine could look like, if it’d even be human. If he was still human.

“OK,” Dick says. “That’s good. But you don’t have to be.” He sighs. “I don’t know if I am.”

Gar swallows. “After what happened to you – it’s normal, right?”

“Yeah.” Dick says, hesitantly. “It is, after everything you’ve been through, everything we’ve all been through…I can only imagine how scary it was for you,” he takes a breath. “and Rachel seeing me like that, being trapped with her father.”

“I should’ve done more.”

“You did more than any kid should have to.” Dick interrupts. “You did everything you could. In fact, I came to find you to lecture you about putting yourself in harm’s way when you should’ve been hiding and keeping yourself safe, but then I realized, I owe you, Gar.”

“For what?” Gar holds his breath.

“Fighting to protect us.” Dick says. “What you did was brave. Heroic. Inspiring.” He confesses. “I know we can do this. I know we can get Rachel back and stop Trigon – because of you.”

“Me?” Gar fights back the tears when Dick nods, and he nods in response because it’s all he can manage in the unexpected turn of events. His heart swells and he fights the urge to fall into Dick’s arms because he doesn’t want to freak him out.

He was happy where he was before, at the mansion. He had his own space, and he could do what he wanted for the most part. The chief would ask for blood samples occasionally and sit him down in a room to talk about how he felt about his transition, but mostly, he liked being in his room, his little bubble filled with everything that reminded him of home. Memorabilia and trinkets that reminded him of his parents, mostly his mother, the biggest horror fan he’d ever met. He was content with his new life, almost.

He had friends. Cliff cared for him, and Larry, and even Rita in her own unique way. The chief too, but they were all just big freaks, him the biggest one of all, thrown together in a house to get on with it. And they did, some days they tried to figure it all out together, this new life with new challenges, and some days they ignored it completely.

Neither of them tried to parent him and he never felt like he needed to be parented. They were all honorary siblings. His parents were dead after all and he’d figured it out anyway, this growing up gig. He’d survived.

But then he met Kory, and she made him feel warm, literally, and safe – and he wasn’t so sure she was doing it intentionally. And now Dick was doing it too. Caring in a way that reminded him of how old he was, and how safe he needed to feel. He was a freakin’ tiger, he could protect himself, and yet this feeling, this familial sensation of safety, and care and protection tugged on and drug up a longing he thought he’d buried long ago.

Dick hissed, gripping his head and Gar snapped to attention. “I’m sorry, are you okay?” he touched Dick’s shoulder. 

“Just a headache,” Dick takes a breath and straightens himself up. “Give me a hand?”

Gar springs to his feet, pulling Dick up, too. 

“I know you’re fine,” Dick says, squeezing Gar’s shoulder. “But when you’re not, I need you to swear you’ll come to me, or Kory.”

Gar nods. “I swear.”

TTTTTTTTTTT 

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Dick enters the house with Gar behind him and finds Angela propped up against the sofa, cradling her arm, or what’s left of it, with a black belt pulled tight around it. He looks up and finds Kory, standing close by.

“She was bleeding out,” Kory explains. 

“She cauterized the wound,” Donna adds. “She didn’t want to, took some convincing.”

He sees the hole has been covered with a bed sheets nailed to the wall, the split sofa pushed together, and all the debris swept away. “Where are the others?”

“Hank and Dawn are getting into their civilian clothes, right now.” Donna says.

“The boy’s also upstairs,” Kory says. “Something about a bad burrito.” She takes a breath, and then moves to Gar. “Are you okay?” she rushes his hair back when he nods. “I’m sorry,”

Gar frowns. “For what?”

“All of it,” Kory swallows. “I’ve been going over it again and again in my head. What we did wrong – what I did wrong, pushing Rachel into her mother’s arms, making her vulnerable to her father because of what I did to her.”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“That wasn’t you,” Dick says. “Not really.”

“I should’ve stopped her from going with him,” she groaned. “I could have – I wasn’t trapped, or hurt,”

“You couldn’t have stopped her.” Dick assures. “She knew what she wanted, and she did it.”

“What do you mean?” Kory stills. “Dick?”

He knows it isn’t the right time to tell them, but he doesn’t know when would be. All he knows is, he won't let Kory take the blame for Rachel, or allow guilt to fester in Gar any longer. “Right before she left,” he breathes out. “Right before she left, she spoke to me, in my head,” he looks down. “told me to let her go with him.”

“What?” Kory growled.

“You _let_ Rachel go with Trigon?” Gar says, teary eyed.

Thudthudthud.

“C’mon,” Donna stands beside Dick. “you were there, we were all there. It wasn't a choice. Rachel going was the only way.”

“For what?” Gar asks. “To save ourselves,”

“She needed time to get close to him, earn his trust. Figure out his endgame.” Dick’s vision tilts. Heat pools in his spine and colors flash behind his eyes with every blink. He tries to meditate, focus on Kory’s face, but thoughts of her lying at his feet frozen gives way to the climbing pain. “It was the only scenario where we got out alive. I didn’t have time to think about it. All I know is, he needs her for something.”

“And you gave her to him.” Gar argues.

“Gar,” Kory softly.

“And you’re on his side,” Gar clenches his jaw. “You both are.”

Dick stumbles forward, reaching for Gar, wanting to make him understand. Rachel is the only one who can get close enough. “All we have to do is find them.”

“You think she can destroy him, don't you?” Kory asks. "What if she isn't ready?"

“We can’t think about that.” Dick says. “We use what we have cause it’s all we -,” he swallows shards of glass. “I believe in her. I know she can do it. I-,” rolling his eyes as the room shrinks around him.

“Dick?” Kory steps closer and her voice echoes.

Thudthudthudthud.

His head has been pounding for so long, it takes minutes for him to differentiate the sound from his heart. When he does, it’s pounding so hard he can’t take a full breath. “I just – she wanted – I couldn’t let him hurt-,”

“Dick,” Donna rushes to him. 

Thud. Thud.

Sweat treads from his hairline, tracing the side of his face. The room starts to spin, and their faces blur into a mesh of colors. He reaches forward for something to hold him up and stumbles when he finds nothing. Then he hears his name followed by a chorus of panic before the room tilts on its head and he lands.

Thud.


	2. World on Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel gets to know her father and meets a very old friend of his. A glimpse into the future leaves her reeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, I am so sorry. This is not even late, it's been 84 years. Dick may as well be in a coma (He's not though). Life snowballed a little and I suck at management. Extra hours at work, a lot of June birthdays including my own. As of July 18th things will back to normal for me, as will posting. You'll notice the title has changed to "The Raven" because the further I got into writing, the more Rachel evolved. It became more fitting. But anyways, enough about me. How are you? Here's an update.

Rachel crashes to her knees, heaving as the portal closes. Her fingers scale her throat and she lurches forward as the contents of her stomach rushes out; hot and fast, splattering all over the soft, grey carpet and up her sleeves. Gasping, she falls back, recoiling from the rancid smell of bile.

She can’t muster a thought. Words evade her. Her tongue lays heavy between her teeth and her eyes blur with tears as her father kneels at her side. “It’ll pass.” He soothes her back with gentle circles, and she frowns at him. “I forget you’re half-human and untrained.” Trigon snarls then, but she can’t be sure if it’s at the smell in front of him or the word human. He stands, pulling her up with him.

Her hand trembles when she raises it to her chin, wiping the wet from her lower lip. The swirling fog lifts and her memories come rushing in, piling on top of each other in a panic. And she can’t decide what she needs to know first; Gar’s healing, Dick’s safety or Kory’s recovery after all she put her mind through, again. “My friends,” she mutters.

“Grateful,” he says, letting go of her wrist. “I suspect.”

Rachel glances around as he walks across the large room. From where she stands the three floor-to-ceiling windows boast a shiny skyline and a glistening river. They’re high up in some condo somewhere, so high up, so close to the sky, she’s hesitant to go any closer. “Where are we?”

Trigon stands in front of the stocked minibar and grabs a bottle of water. “Home.”

She turns, taking in the mounted paintings, abstract and cold. The marble fireplace and large mirror sitting atop it with a big TV beside it. “Where’s home?” she asks, glancing at the grand piano in the corner of the pale coloured room. 

“On top of the world,” he cracks the seal and closes the gap between them, handing it to her.

Her skin is still vibrating with anxiety from stepping into a hole and being spat out the other side. She starts to move and the room slants, and she tilts with it. When Trigon catches her in his arms, she settles against him, begrudgingly, and allows him to lead her. He isn’t made of bone and flesh, and blood, and yet it’s all she feels. Sees. A human body, warm and protective, it almost feels real enough to forget that he isn’t.

Rachel sits as he settles her onto the chair. She leans against the round table and her stomach clenches when she sees the spread of food covering every inch of it. She’s hungry and nauseous, but overriding them both is the fear and uncertainty, because warm food awaits them, and she’s forced to consider their arrival was expected.

“Drink,” he gestures to the bottle, and then the platters of food. “Eat.”

But she doesn’t know where to start. The table is filled with cheeses (so many cheeses) and ham, and different breads, vegetables, noodles and pizza. Large chicken legs, meat shavings and desserts also pile on top of each other in trays. It’s a confusing range, but nonetheless provoking a groan from her empty stomach. With hesitance, she reaches past the bottle for the pitcher with water and shakily pours herself a glass.

He sits in front of her. “You’ll see her again – your mother. You have my word.”

Rachel sips her water. “Why would I believe you?”

“I did leave your friends alive, but you’re right,” he reaches across the table and snatches a black olive from a crystallized bowl. “You have no reason to trust me, and I don’t expect you to, just because I’m your father. After all, I’m still a stranger, though I’m hopeful that will change,” he leans closer, scrutinizing her from her hair down to her clothes. “eventually.” And then throws the olive into his mouth before standing. “These things take time.”

Her eyes follow him rigidly as he crosses the lavish decorated room, to stand in front of the window. “I need the bathroom.”

“There are five,” he glances over his shoulder with a prideful smile. “Take your pick,” turning back, he adds, “but don’t be long. We’ll be in company shortly.”

&&&

Rachel huddles into the first room she finds and slams it behind her, turning the lock. The room is also large and equally lavish with a bathroom three times the size of her old room. She leans off the door and rushes over to it, hunching over the sink and opens the faucet, splashing water over her face. When she’s done, she reaches over and opens the twin faucet in the second sink and leaves both pairs running.

She shakes out of her jacket and wets the sleeve, scrubbing the sick off, and then flings it over the bathtub behind her.

Shaking her hands, she pushes her shoulders back and stares into the mirror. “Okay, you’ve done this before,” she whispers. “you can do it again.”

Breathing out, she closes her eyes, and settles into a memory of Dick: When he let her hold his credit card in the convenience store and she bought too much candy. She’d laid it out on the bed in front of the TV in the motel room waiting for Game of Thrones. She remembers how afraid she was moments later in the bathtub, in the dark, hiding from her own reflection and darkness, and how safe she felt in his arms after he’d found her.

But nothing.

“Dick, can you hear me?” but he doesn’t hear her or answer. Her mind wanders away to Gar. Green. Green. Green is all she sees. She can’t feel or see or hear him either, even when she summons his scent to her nose, the feel of his skin to her hands and his voice to her ears, nothing comes.

Nothing.

Reaching deeper, she thinks of Kory, and submerges herself in the memory of Kory’s mind. She remembers how splintered it was, and how memories evaded her. The blast of fire that combusted from her friend’s body and consumed Trigon as she tried to protect her, and how safe she felt after Kory saved her from that family. “Please, Kory. Someone. Anyone.”

Silence. Stillness. Nothing.

She wants to know they’re okay, really okay, and hear their voices to make sure. She knows the sick, heavy feeling settling down in the pit of her stomach won’t go away until she does.

Her eyes grow warm and wet, and her heart sinks low in her chest, because she can’t feel anyone.

She’s alone.

&&&

Rachel sniffles, rubbing her sleeve against her nose as she re-enters the suite. The sun is dying, its gleam now faint as it streams across the room, over the long leather soft couch, fading at the foot of the table.

The floor-to-ceiling windows almost trick her into believing she’s outside and free. She’s never been this high before, this close to the sky, it’s beautiful. She remembers begging her mother to skip school and take a day trip to New York to visit the Empire State building. Melissa had kept putting it off, finally having a change of heart when Rachel used her birthday as an excuse. Finally, she had agreed to take her, and then everything happened.

“You’re sad.” Trigon says without turning to her. “You feel alone.”

She steels herself, clenching her fists. “I’m not alone. My friend-,”

“No, you’re not,” he says. “but you still feel alone,” turning on his heel, he looks at her with soft eyes. “I’m afraid those people cannot help you now. Your yearning for them to come for you is a hopeless dream, an unnecessary wish.”

“How long do I have to stay here?” Rachel growls.

“I understand your upset,” he closes the gap between them and cups her face. “this all feels unfamiliar, but you called on me, and I came.”

“I was trying to help my friend,” she cries, swatting his hand away.

“You thought of me long before your friend fell ill. I have thought of you as you have thought of me. I’ve always been with you, even when I couldn’t show you.”

“They’ll come for me,” Rachel whimpers. “Dick, and Kory, and Gar – they’ll-,”

“Will they?” he raises his eyebrow in question. “tell me, what can they teach you? Mm. Do they know what you truly are – do you?” Trigon turns his back on her and walks back over to the window. “You think they’d understand if they did.” He laces his fingers behind his back. “They would not. I have much to teach you and you have much to learn. The sooner you surrender, the easier it’ll be to let go of them and this world.”

“I’ll never let go.” Rachel cries. “Tell me where we are?”

“Thank you, my dear,” Trigon says, turning to look over her shoulder.

Rachel follows his line of sight to a girl in white uniform scrubbing her sick out of the floor. “Wait,” she calls, rushing over to her as she makes for the exit, cloth in hand. “Help me, please.” Stepping in front of the girl’s way, “tell me where we are,” she gasps at her eyes. They’re black holes. Veins pour down her face like tears.

“Anything for you,” the girl says.

Rachel lets her go and she leaves out the door. “Why are you doing this?” she cries, storming back towards him. “Are you going to make everyone follow you?” when he says nothing, she shouts. “Tell me.”

She snaps her head to the double doors as they creak open.

“Welcome home, Bee.” Trigon says. “It has been too long.”

Rachel flinches at bone breaking, sounding like a crackling fire. Her heart takes off in a race and she stares into the dark corridor searching it for answers, as the sound progresses to popping and hissing. It moves and she catches its shadow in the dark, larger and taller than the door frame. It snaps and thrashes, twisting itself in knots.

Her mouth dries and she steps back until she’s safely behind Trigon’s shoulder. She doesn’t know what to expect; hooves, horns, red eyes or a tail. Maybe all four, but she doesn’t want it coming in. Glancing up at her father, she frowns at the prideful look on his face, almost mirroring the way she found him looking at Gar before he healed him. 

The misshapen shadow shrinks’ inch by painful inch making click sounds each time. Then it stills and Rachel holds her breath because she can feel its eyes glaring at her from the dark. It breathes deep and loud, and the draft from it brushes against her cheek, the smell of decay and rot filling her nose.

She grips her father’s arm. He doesn’t seem so frightening now.

“Stop performing,” Trigon says, placing his hand atop Rachel’s. “She’s harmless.” He assures.

Emerging from the darkness in place of the shadow, is a pale face watching her with its eyes on fire, blazing. “As you wish,” her voice is raspy, and warm, but Rachel remains at Trigon’s side as she steps out of the shadows a human woman. She’s tall, maybe taller than Kory, and she wears an expensive looking, navy blue pantsuit with her blazer open. Her hair is red like fire, but her eyes are dark and deep as the night.

“Rachel, this is Bee,” Trigon smiles as she approaches.

Rachel inches away, putting distance and the long sofa between them. She watches the two stare at each other intensely, and half-expects them to kiss, but they break out into smiles and embrace each other instead.

“You’re here,” she says. “In the flesh,” snorting, she brushes her hand down his chest. “well,”

Trigon nods towards Rachel and she stiffens as Bee turns to her, pinning her where she is. “Bee, this is my daughter,” 

“The Raven,” Bee’s eyes grow large and lustful, and her lips stretch into a toothy smile. “Raven, it’s a pleasure.”

“My name is Rachel,” she swallows as Bee approaches her with her nose in the air and her big eyes tracing every inch. The smell grows stronger, rot and rust filling the air, and it’s all Bee. “What are you?” she hears herself ask aloud.

Bee’s face lights up. “Guess,” she says, excited.

Rachel’s eyes flit across the room at her father and he nods. She thinks she knows. It feels like an old memory trying to claw its way from the back of her mind to the tip of her tongue. Bee’s eyes grow larger, and larger making Rachel’s palms sweat. Electric snaps at the hairs on her body and she opens her mouth to guess – and Bee mirrors the gesture. “I,” she swallows. “I don’t know.”

“Ah,” Bee’s face shrinks, but she’s sure she’s imagining it all. “Not what I was expecting,”

“Give her time,” Trigon offers, “in the end it was Angela who brought her to me.” 

“The organization?” Bee slams herself into a chair at the table and begins picking at the food. First, she pinches an olive, then a slice of rolled ham before biting into a slice of pizza. 

“Under revision,” Trigon bites, taking a big breath to settle his nerves. His eyes flit up to Rachel still watching them from across the room. He nods to the chair between them and she moves hesitantly to his side, settling down. “I expected Asa to be with you,”

Rachel's knee immediately takes off, bouncing against the bottom of the table. Watching them talk like nothing has happened, like she isn't in a nightmare is unsettling.

“Seeing is believing,” Bee says. “He didn’t think the Raven could do it, but I’m sure he’ll want to see you. Both of you.” Her eyes dance over the table and Rachel’s spine chills. “You could always summon him.” she smirks, “but then if you did, a century old pact would be broken.”

Trigon’s jaw clenches.

Bee sings. “Might I suggest a show,” she says, “something that’ll perhaps reignite his - interests.”

Trigon glances at Rachel and then back to Bee, smiling. “Everything else in place?” the smile spreads when she nods. 

“Then let’s feast.”

“Does it not eat?” Bee points her sharp chin in Rachel’s direction.

“Eat. You’ll need your strength,” Trigon says.

“For what?” Rachel dares herself to ask.

“Does a child not need sustenance?” he pushes a tray piled high with pizza towards her. “Children love pizza, no?”

Rachel swallows and slides a slice of pepperoni off the tray, taking a small bite, and it’s only when she takes her second that he moves his focus back on Bee. The room falls silent and she glances between them engaged in another stare off, but then she hears Bee’s voice though her mouth isn’t moving:

_“we have one more seal to locate.” She says. “Do you have the other?” ___

__Trigon looks at Rachel and she drops her head. “Yes. It’s safe.” He replies aloud. “Eat. After all, it is for you.”_ _

__Rachel watches Bee empty a tray full of noodles onto the tray of cheese, bread and chicken legs before drawing it close. She thinks she sees fangs as Bee opens her mouth and blinks only to find she didn’t, she can’t be sure what is what, but she knows Bee isn’t human._ _

__“She’s insatiable,” Trigon watches with amusement._ _

__The room is too quiet, all she hears is bone breaking viciously, and flesh being pulled free by teeth, Bee’s teeth, her eyes shining with lust. She doesn’t take a breath as she cleans tray after tray of all its contents. Slurping food between her greasy lips, her eyes grow wider and darker with each bite._ _

__Rachel recoils at her ghoulish expression as she tears through meat as though it’s fighting back, dribbling, growling and snapping her jaw until it’s all gone.__

__ &&& _ _

__  
_Rachel stares out of the window watching all the lights from the neighboring buildings shine. Bee had long left, thankfully, but the dread remains a tight coil in the pit of her stomach, something terrible is coming, or growing. She isn't sure._  
  


__She can’t be sure of anything. But she hasn’t given up hope Dick and the others will find her, she knows they will, so she’ll just have to hang in there until they do. And she can, she knows she can, but it won’t stop her from trying to reach them._ _

__“We’re cloaked,” Trigon’s voice pierces through her thoughts. “in case you were hoping to dial out. Your friends, they won’t find us.”_ _

__Rachel turns to him with her fists clenched. “Why am I here – what is that _thing_ that was here and who is Asa?” her eyes grow hot. She can feel the rage blooming in her chest, the blood pulsing through her veins, in her face, taking over. Closing her eyes, she breathes deep until it passes. “What do you want from me?”_ _

__“Raven-,”_ _

__“Stop calling me that, my name is Rachel. My mother named me.” She takes a step back as he steps forward, slowly making her way around the sofa and away from him, until her back is against the wall, where nothing can come out of the shadows without her seeing it first. “I’m not who you think I am, what you think I am.”_ _

__“Sweet child, you’re not who _you_ think you are,” he takes a step towards her. “this world has made you afraid. They called it darkness and you believed them.”__

____“it’s evil,” Rachel scrubs her hand down her face, wiping the unbidden tears. “stuck inside me.”_ _ _ _

____“it’s not inside you. It is you. Right down to bone. Until you accept that, you’ll always be afraid. If you want control you must relinquish it. Feel the power coursing through you. Channel it. Use it.”_ _ _ _

____“No,” Rachel slides to the floor and brings her knees to her chest, dropping her head between them. “Please, stop.” She stiffens when she feels his hand atop her head, stroking her like a cat._ _ _ _

____“Soon you will realize the truth, that to deny who you are is to accept that you will always be at war with yourself. You’re not so different from your friends after all, neither of them knows who they are either. All of them at war with themselves.” His breath beats against her hair. “Tell me, Rachel, if they don’t know who they are, how they can possibly hope to know and accept the real you?”_ _ _ _

____Rachel swallows the lump in her throat. She doesn’t know._ _ _ _

____“The answer is they will not, cannot. But you and I, we are blood, and flesh and bone.” He is gentle when he cups her shoulder. “We should be ruling side by side.”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t belong here,” she whispers, her eyes still squeezed shut, too afraid to see herself in him, same eyes, or mouth, or hands._ _ _ _

____He is right about the thing she fears most, she does not know who she is. And her friends may not know who they are, but she knows them. She’s touched them, felt their desires, seen their hopes and fears. Lived their histories and traumas. She knows who they are. They are wilful and determined and they care about her, they did even when she didn’t want them to, and they won’t stop until they’re together again. That's who they are. She also knows she will find a way to escape his cloak because she learned a thing or two from her friends about wilfulness and determination._ _ _ _

____“You belong with your family.”_ _ _ _

____“You don’t know me.” Rachel finally looks up, startling at the bright orange light filling the room, flickering in from outside. The ground shakes and she slams her palms down to steady herself because it feels like a bomb went off beneath them. The glass thrums and everything not nailed down rattles. “What’s happening?” she follows him with her eyes as he stands and walks over to the window._ _ _ _

____The orange light glows brighter, washing over everything. It flashes like a heartbeat. Flash. Flash. Flash._ _ _ _

____Her mouth dries and her heart thumps against her chest so hard, she clutches it as she shifts forward onto her knees, scrambling up to her feet. Gulping, she takes a step toward the window. Her stomach twists violently and feverish chill crawls along her spin, seeping into her bloodstream, spreading its cold disease all over her body. Her hands grow numb from squeezing them so tight as she moves closer to the chaos, she can hear down below._ _ _ _

____Everything is telling her to turn away, not to look, but she can already taste it in her mouth. Ash. Death. The smell of decay and fear hangs in the air, clinging to her skin, clothes and hair, sticking to the back of her throat._ _ _ _

____Pressing her hands against the window, she gasps for air. The heat from the glass burns her palms but she can’t pull away. Because the sky is folding in on itself, creating a maelstrom bleeding red, as black thunder cracks across the clouds and whips down._ _ _ _

____The ground shakes again._ _ _ _

____The moon is scorched red and the sun hangs beside it in the sky, a black hole. Thick ripples of smoke dance along the streets, fire flaring up from the cracked cement as shadows move. Buildings cry and screech as they collapse into each other, crumbling, and flaking under the flames._ _ _ _

____And somewhere among all the noise she can still hear the terror and screams._ _ _ _

____Stumbling back, she falls on her backside and reels away from the window and the heat and the screams. “Make it stop,” she cries, pressing her palms against her ears. “Please.”_ _ _ _

____“In the end you’ll surrender,” Trigon says. “and it won’t be because I’m your father, or because I frightened you into it. It won’t be to save your friends from a certain fate, or this world. It’ll be because you want to. Because you like how it feels to be powerful, and when that happens – when you surrender, we’re going to take this world.”_ _ _ _

____Rachel is encouraged by the fallen silence to glance up, and when she does, it’s all gone. The fire, the screams, and the gaping sky is gone. Fluffy clouds thinning across the deepening blue sky takes its place. The buildings gleams under the lights of the city awake and the only thing she can hear is faint traffic droning on below._ _ _ _

____But the taste lingers. The smoky air and the smell of flesh and fear. Those piercing screams._ _ _ _

____They’re all cattle and her father is a wolf leading everyone to their slaughter, and it's her own fault because she called him here. She brought him back, and now she’s seen it, her father’s plan for her home. A world on fire._ _ _ _

____“together,” Trigon smiles, turning his back to her to face out the window. “We’re going to take it all.”_ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping you enjoyed the latest installment and my OC Bee creeped and grossed the fuck outta ya! 
> 
> Coming Up Next: Dick is up and he kind of scared the women in his life.


	3. Nature Always Wins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gar is struggling with the newfound development of his abilities and finds an ally in Jason. Meanwhile Dick faces the emotional impact he's had on the women in his life, and tries to make sense of Trigon's nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prep yourself. It's a long one. Popcorn, anyone? (Please excuse any mistakes you find, I'll tidy it up soon as the story is complete)
> 
> I wrote Jason. I'M NERVOUS.

Gar is standing over the bed, watching Dick sleep soundlessly. He listens to his faint heartbeat under his breath, and it grows louder as he focuses. Heat stirs beneath his skin and he closes his eyes, letting the sensation roll over him. He wants to give in and sink deep into the pleasure of the unknown shift he can feel tugging him closer to the edge. But he hates how much he wants this, and the two sides of him fight for dominance.

His nails grow sharp and curved, and his teeth push through his gums, leaving a rusty taste on his tongue, a taste that leaves him hungry. So hungry.

The gentle tap at the base of Dick’s throat, his heart throbbing there, makes Gar’s gums itch. Catching himself licking his lips, he reels back, away from the bed and falls on his backside with tears in his eyes. He’s back in the room, realizing where he is and what he’s doing, and he's disgusted.

“Dick,” he sobs. “Help me. Please.” Dragging himself into the corner of the room where he’s enshrouded in the dark, he watches the older man stir awake. “Dick?”

“Gar,” his voice is heavy with sleep as he searches the room with heavy lids.

“Help me,” Gar winces as his canines pierce his lower lip, and he grips the carpeted floor, tearing into it. “I can hear his voice – in – inside,” he stutters. “in my head, he’s in my head.” He groans, squeezing his head between his palms.

Dick slowly sits up and swings his legs over the bed. The sheets fall, revealing the deep, angry gash on his side, stitched up. The bloods now congealed and healing, but Gar can smell it, sharp and fresh. He can hear it rushing to the wound, to heal it, and he all he wants is a little taste. A tiny drop. “Don’t come any closer,” he shouts as Dick moves off the bed. 

“You have to let me see you,” Dick says, holding his side.

“I can’t,” Gar’s eyes widen as Dick reaches for the light and throws his arms over his face to hide as it washes over him. “No,” and then he hears the stutter in Dick’s breath and the elevation of his heart. “I can’t change back.”

Dick kneels in front of him and gently holds his wrist. “It’s okay. We’re going to figure it out.”

Gar looks up at Dick, watches him struggle to hide the horror on his face and it’s enough to make him want to run. Fur covers every inch of his body, talons curve from his fingers and toes and his teeth spill from his mouth, but his body remains human. “he wants me to hurt you,” he quivers.

“Trigon’s gone,” Dick whispers. “I won’t let him get to you.”

Gar stands as Dick pulls him to his feet. “I’m sorry,” a rumble of electric rolls through his body, warm and exciting, forcing his hair to stand on end. It surges him, unrelenting and overwhelming every nerve in his body. “he already has,”

Dick frowns. “Gar, what do you mean?”

Gar launches forward with a growl in his throat and grips Dick by his shoulders, digging his sharp talons into flesh to hold him still.

And then…

 

He wakes up, jerking forward, his hands reaching for thin air. “No,” he cries. Panting hard and fast, he searches the room for any Trigon shaped shadows, sighing when he finds none. His T-shirt and hair’s drenched with sweat and his eyes prickle with tears. Clutching his chest, he groans, leaning forward, it’s so tight he thinks it may burst. So, he breathes deep into his belly, and presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth to trap the sob lodged in his throat from escaping.

Soft light peeps into the room, dawn is approaching, it’s warm pink light streaming across the floor, stopping short of the foot of his bed. He’s relieved he at least doesn’t have to attempt going back to sleep. 

Slowly, he reaches up, pushing his fingers into his mouth to brush against his gums, and when he finds no teeth, stares down at his hands. His normal, human hands. 

His skin vibrates and his heart won’t stop slamming, like he’s downed too many energy drinks. He’s afraid of this thing he is becoming. Afraid this gift isn’t a gift after all, but a curse and a danger to the people he cares about most, and worse, a growing dread telling him he can’t stop it.

&&&&

“You need your strength back,” Donna argues as Dick carefully slips into his jacket before he circles the bed to pick up his boots. “Are you even listening to me?”

Dick raises an eyebrow at her and sits on the end of the bed, giving her his full attention. Donna doesn’t get rattled or spooked easily, or at all, but the crack he heard in her voice gives him pause. “I’m fine, Donna, really,”

“You collapsed,” she says. “You have bruised ribs, a twisted ankle and concussion. Two days ago, your temperature was through the roof. You are _not _fine,” she grinds out.__

__When Dick opened his eyes this morning, it wasn’t the bruised ribs, ankle or his head he felt first, it was regret. Seeing Donna’s concerned, sparkling eyes hovering over him two days earlier, feeling Kory’s frantic and quiet energy from the across the room, and Gar’s panicked voice outside trying to get in. Now all he's worried about is if he’d did the right thing letting Rachel go, or if he’s ruined the little girl’s life just by being in it?_ _

__He feels better now, physically anyway. He isn’t healed or fixed. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be either of those things, but at least he can think straight. His mind is clearer than it was days ago, as if the sickness has purged the remnants of Trigon’s poison from his system. He’s still taking in the fact Dawn is up, Hank’s alive and Kory’s safe, and he hates that they’re worried about _him _.___ _

____He’s light when he moves, though he hasn’t done much of that over the last two days, and he appreciates the worry even though it makes him squirm. But Rachel is the mission, and he’s beyond ready to get a move on, still, it isn’t often he sees Donna’s hair out of place or a cloud over her eyes. So, he doesn't rush her. Pulling her to sit down beside him, he bites down on a hiss after stretching himself too far. "Look at me," and when she does, he smiles. "I'm good. Promise."_ _ _ _

____“Barely,” she mutters. “I really want to punch you in the face right now,” and he laughs at that, until she glares at him._ _ _ _

____“I’m sorry,” Dick says in all seriousness. “I know it’s been a rough couple of days, but you don’t have to worry about me,”_ _ _ _

____“I didn’t think I had to,” Donna argues. “but it turns out we have an idiot in the family, that’s you by the way, you’re the idiot.” She sighs, standing to pace the small room. “You’re right about one thing; it has been a rough couple days, but it’s about to get worse. We all know how dangerous this rescue mission is. I need to know you’re at your best so I can be at mine.”_ _ _ _

____Dick huffs. “What do you want me to do, Donna? Huh. Lie down and sleep some more. Get _more _rest?”___ _ _ _

______“Yes,” Donna yells, and he pauses, looking closer at her, stunned when he sees the emotion rushing through her face, darkening her eyes. “I want you to take it easy and not rush into another fight without backup, and believe me, I know how hard that is for you on a normal day, let alone now with Rachel out there, but I am asking you anyway.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Dick swallows, and glances down, staring into his hands. He has and continues to fail miserably when it comes to letting others close enough - but to him getting close means close enough to get hurt. He ran because he didn't think, he acted, and though he didn't know Kory and Donna would be trapped outside, he was relieved they were. He couldn't be sorry about that, even though he was sorry it had left her shaken._ _ _ _ _ _

______The door knocks and Donna sniffles, quickly wiping her face with the back of her hand. She walks over to the door and pulls it open, shooting him a look behind the door before letting it swing, revealing Kory on the other side._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You’re up,” Kory’s face lights up, and something in his chest shakes loose at the sight of her. Her magenta curls are pulled back in a loose bun and she’s wearing a T-shirt of Gar’s, green with a polar bear standing next to a black bear and the words ‘let's make a panda' on it. She has on a grey pair of leggings (Donna’s) and no makeup on, but she’s never looked more exquisite, even though she’s frowning at him now. “but why are you putting your boots on,” she turns to Donna. “why is he putting his boots on?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“The world can’t wait,” Donna shoots him a look._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It can’t, actually, and neither can Rachel,” Dick adds, standing up. "Kory-,"_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You’re no good to Rachel hurt.” Kory argues. “You should wait at least another day,” she glances at Donna, and finds her confirmation, and he sighs, he was afraid of this - they're pairing up. “You can’t just jump back in after collapsing like that,”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Dick offers her a small smile. “Thanks to Hank, I can barely feel a thing. The man carries a mini pharmacy with him everywhere.” He moves to the door and Kory steps in his way, her eyes big and worried, and gently presses her hand to his side. He tries not to flinch._ _ _ _ _ _

______“No one will think any less of you for needing time to heal.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Kory,” Dick starts._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Dick,” Kory's voice strains. “You collapsed. Hit your head. Just, one more day, please. I’m not asking you stay in this room and do nothing, Donna and I have spent the last two days trying to find Angela’s history before and during her stay at the asylum, looking for places of significance. Your friends, Hank and Dawn have been turning over every stone in relation to Adamson and the organization. Jason’s supercomputer has been running scans looking for any sightings of Rachel. I don’t want you to sit still. I just want you to wait a little before heading out there looking for a fight.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Dick looks across her shoulder at Donna whose resolve is steeled, and he knows he won’t win this one with them on the same side. He relents. “Fine,”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Good,” Donna says._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Great,” Dick retorts. “Try not to enjoy it so much.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I make no promises, bird boy,” Donna goads._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Donna would you-,” before Dick can finish his plea, she’s holding her hands up in surrender and slipping out the door. Now he and Kory stand alone, and he has no idea where to start, all he knows is, she’s here, close, and he at least has some solace from that.______

___ &&&&& _ _ _

__  
__  
_“Yo, Gar, are you seeing this?” Jason dry heaves as Dawn cleans around Angela’s stump, and Gar rolls his eyes. He hasn’t had enough sleep for this._  
  
  
  


______“Alright,” Dawn glances at Jason over her shoulder. “Give me some room, please.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Angela is propped against her bed with her wrist handcuffed to the post. Dawn has popped a towel behind her other arm. Her face is paler than usual, but thanks or not thanks to Kory burning the wound, she’ll live. But he doesn’t want to look, and it isn’t because it makes him nauseous – over the weeks he’s been with Rachel and the others, he’s seen worse, done worse. He doesn’t want to look because he can’t stand to see her being taken care of when she is the reason they are in this position._ _ _ _ _ _

______Glancing around the room, which to him, with its drab walls, ancient furniture and old pictures looks like something out one of those black and white movies from the 40s, he leans against the wall. Folding his arms, he peers out the window, finding interest in the field ahead._ _ _ _ _ _

______With the nightmare still leaning heavily into him, he wishes Rachel was there to talk to. Not because she was some dark thing who understand, but because she would find a way to make him laugh even though he was scared. Sure, he could tell Kory, but then she would keep a closer eye on him to make sure he was okay. Then she’d tell Dick, and the pair would keep him out of this fight, and there was no way he was going to let that happen._ _ _ _ _ _

______“So, what it’s like,” Jason asks with a nonchalant shrug. “having one arm?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s a goddamn party,” Angela coughs. “What’s it like wearing a suit that doesn't belong to you?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Jason smirks at that, but Gar catches the little twitch of his cheek and now he’s back in the room. He leans off the window. “Why is she even still here?” he asks. “We should hand her over to the police, she isn’t going to help us. We don’t need her.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“We might,” Hank steps into the room with a bottle of water and an extra towel, handing both to Dawn._ _ _ _ _ _

______“We don’t,” Gar retorts._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I don’t know,” Jason pushes his hands into his pockets. “Boyfriend left her behind. Must sting,” he smiles. “Maybe she wants a little revenge.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Doesn’t sting as much as this,” Angela lifts her stump. “And not enough to help you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Gar feels a hot current of electric roll through his body. His heart is pounding something fierce and his fingernails indent his palms from clenching his fists so tight. “What about helping your daughter?” He spits. “She came to that Asylum for you as soon as she found out you were alive. She came to rescue you and you handed her over to a monster.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Gar,” Dawn stands, placing her hand on his arm, stopping him from moving any closer. “I know you’re upset, but this isn’t going to help anyone, especially you.” She turns to Hank. “We _should _seriously get her to a hospital.”___ _ _ _ _ _

________“You want to save the woman who jump started the apocalypse?” Jason asks, incredulously._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I don’t know about you, but I don’t see it raining frogs outside, do you?” Dawn says. “It isn’t the end of the world yet, and whatever he’s planned is a mystery until he does it. We need to figure out what we’re doing right here and now.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I say we wait and see what Dick thinks,” Jason adds. "Kory too."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Kid has a point,” Hank says. “There’s a dead cop downstairs turning blue because of her – what we do with her shouldn’t be up one of us. Should be up to all of us.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Why should we help her?” Gar cries. “She didn’t even help her own daughter.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Because we’re not her,” Dawn says, softly. “Gar, I understand-,”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Whatever,” Gar spins on his heels and is across the hall in a few long strides, skipping down the stairs to escape this horror show. By the time he's on the last step, he’s already feeling sorry for being rude to Dawn, that’s not him, but he hasn’t been feeling much like himself lately.________

___ &&&&& _ _ _

__  
__  
_“You finally have some color back in your cheeks,” Kory breaks the silence first, making him realize he hasn’t said anything since Donna left. “Still look like a ghost,” she shrugs, “but better,” finding interest in her ring, she twists it around and silence falls again because he’s choking on his words before he can even get them out. She wants answers and it knows it, it hangs in the air like a rain cloud, but the dream – nightmare still grips his chest, everything he felt in there, still lingering. Her laying there, cold._  
  
  
  


________He clears his throat – she laughs, dragging him back into the room. “so, what do we talk about first?” there’s a hint of agitation in her tone and he knows he deserves that and more. “You running in after a powerful, inter dimensional demon by yourself – what I saw in your head – or you making everyone think you were dying by falling on your face?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Dick scoffs and scratches the side of his face, trying to buy himself some time, and a boat load of courage. “Kory, listen-,”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“You scared the shit out of everyone, by the way,” she interjects. “collapsing like that,” her voice is quiet, and her eyes are downcast, and he can see her pulse hammering at the small cave of her neck. “you scared _me _,” she adds, and he swallows hard, because, same. It scares the shit out of him that she could get hurt, a thought he hadn't considered before Trigon. “First Rachel, and then-,”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I’m sorry,” he clears his throat. He wishes he could muster up more. Something, anything. The truth: that seeing her at his feet frozen, shook loose an insatiable rage and all-consuming grief in him, how she had broken his heart, not in the real world, but it had felt just the same. But he couldn’t tell her, burdened her with a fake life, confess that hours felt like months and because of it, he had a lifetime of memories and moments with her that weren’t real. “I really am,”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________She nods. “About which part?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Dick dares to take a step closer to her, close enough to touch, and he wants to more than anything. “All of it,” he swallows when she finally looks at him. He’s never wanted her more._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Are you okay?” she asks, glancing up at his stitches, and then down to his lips._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Dick kisses her then, ferocious and hard, and he’s relieved when she responds with equal strength and fervor as he pushes her up against the door, slamming it shut. He buries his tongue deep, lapping at her mouth, tasting her, and breathing her in._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He presses his body against her, his mouth traveling along her jaw, down to the crook of her neck, where he sucks hard, eliciting a moan from her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Dick,” she murmurs, but he’s busy getting hard, his pants growing tighter. He leans back to look at her, running his hand across her cheek to cup the back of her head. “Are you okay?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________And he nods, and the look in her eyes says she doesn’t believe him, but he hopes by the time he’s done, she will. That tasting her and pressing his skin to hers will be enough to convince her – enough to convince him he’s awake and not stuck in some fever dream, that she’s safe and real. He needs this. He needs her, so he swallows everything down. “M’fine.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________She licks her lips and leans in, capturing his mouth hungrily, and he groans as heat rushes to the tip of his dick. Rushing his jacket off, he leans back to pull his T-shirt up, stretching too far and winces when his ribs clench. “Motherfu-,” he hisses._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Kory smiles. “Let me,” she gently lifts his shirt and he slowly raises both arms, helping her to get it over his head and off. After flinging it to the floor, she makes quick work of his trousers, dragging them down his thighs and kicking them away. “You have to take it easy or you’ll be on bed rest indefinitely,” and he laughs, because it doesn’t sound so bad right now._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________She stands, and gently rubs her fingers along the purple, blotchy bruises floating up his side, the shape of a cloud, and he watches her, brushing the pad of his thumb along her cheek, over her nose and lips until her eyes finally find his. He draws her close, slow this time, and kisses her tenderly, and her hands glide over his shoulders as they walk backwards._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He falls back onto the bed, grunting as he lands, and watches Kory peel her leggings down her thighs with her underwear inside before kicking it aside. His dick twitches, his eyes glued to her as she crawls up the bed and carefully climbs onto him, resting her hands on either side of his head._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Dick cups her hips instinctively, as she leans down to kiss him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispers, teasing his mouth with the tip of her tongue, gliding it across his lips._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“You won’t,” his breath is ragged already, from feeling her heat against him and he bucks his hips impatiently, prompting a smile from her. He slides his fingers down her stomach and between her thighs where she’s wet and silky, and his dick, now throbbing, drips with anticipation. “Kory,” he grunts._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Kory leans back and pulls his dick, rock hard and hot, from his grey boxers, and then she pushes herself up, pressing against his shoulders and slides down onto him. He practically chokes as she flexes around, warm and tight. She bows down to kiss him, slow and soft, and he groans as she starts to move on him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Does it hurt?” she whispers._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Shaking his head, he buries his fingers into her hips, strong and bruising, as she rolls them. He drops his head into the pillows, moving with her, their bodies together making undignified sounds against the chorus of squeaks from the old mattress. Heat pools in his stomach and it clenches, when he looks down where they’re joined, watching her bury him inside her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“oh god,” she stutters out, pressing her hands against his shoulders when he reaches up, palming her breasts, through the fabric, his thumbs rubbing her nipples until they're hard._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Her mouth is feverish on his when they meet again, briefly, and she moves faster and rolls harder. She’s so sure of her body, arched and powerful, rocking her hips, and he moves too, shifting and rolling while he clutches at her skin._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Their movements get sloppier and sweeter and Kory’s eyes fall shut, when he slips a hand between her thighs, stroking her where she’s throbbing. She throws her head back, whimpering out his name as she comes, clenching fiercely around him and it’s enough to make him come. Snapping his hips up, he groans as the last of his control slips._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Breath harsh, Kory comes down, pressing her chest to his and presses a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, her body still quivering. He gathers her up and pulls her down with an arm around her back, their bodies sticky and sleeked with sweat, and _other stuff _.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He closes his eyes, listening, _feeling _her heart pound against his chest, taking in the scent of rose and honey from her hair, tangling his fingers with hers. She is real, and she’s here, and why is that so terrifying?___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Dick tries to focus on her skin sticking to his, but memories of the _other _her seeps in – how her death broke him, and how ever since he’d woken up, the dreadful feeling that she wasn’t safe gnawed at him.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________He smiles when she glances up at him, her eyes sparkling. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Dick laughs softly. “No,” he closes his eyes when she reaches up to kiss him, savoring the taste and pulls her close as she settles beside him. He swallows. It niggles at him, everything that Trigon showed him, how he used his own emotions against him, to what – warn him. break him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________He can’t help wondering _why, why Trigon killed her in his dream – if it was some sort of test to see how much he could endure – or if it was a threat. A threat against Kory – the possibility, even if it is was small, turned his heart into a fist. _ &&&& ___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Jason hustles behind Gar as he leaves the house and skips down the porch steps. The kid hasn’t done a whole lot of talking since they arrived, which strikes him as hella odd, considering the first and last time they saw each other, he was so excitable, he couldn't stop talking. He asked question after question, theorizing about who Batman was, if he drove the Batmobile, what if felt like to wear the suit._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________At first, it was irritating. Mostly because Dick didn’t seem to be taking him seriously and was more preoccupied with the bombshell in the fur coat. But Gar wore him down, actually, made him realize how alike they were._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________When he first put on the suit, he felt like an idiot – after hearing so much about Robin, like a fraud. But soon, after being on the streets a while, taking down thugs and gangs, he felt connected to Dick Grayson and Robin somehow. Behind the same mask, walking the same streets, he wondered if they felt the same in the suit. Alive. Powerful. Unstoppable._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Wariness became excitement and doubt became self-assured. He was going to make Robin proud so that one day, when he stood face to face with him, he could do it with his head held high. And Gar had the same enthusiasm, and hunger to be in the middle, involved in the fight – not because he was blood thirsty, but because he wanted to do stick up for others._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________This Gar. Well, he was a little less enthusiastic. “Hey, beast boy,”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Gar,” he corrects, stopping beside the tree with the tire swinging in the breeze._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Hey, I get it, we’ve basically been sitting ducks for two days and your girl’s mom is a one-arm wielding nutjob.” Jason starts. “but I mean, there’s sulking and then there’s what you’re doing,” he shrugs. “it’s a waste of time, man.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Gar frowns. “She’s not my girl,”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Friend,” Jason shrugs. “We’ll get her back and hopefully, she’ll still be chill.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“It’s not just that,” Gar groans, and turns to face him, but he seems unsure. Leaning back and forth on his heel, pressing his thumb through the sleeve of his T-shirt._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Then what is it?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Gar shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Just spit it out, man.” Jason groans when Gar clamps his mouth shut. “You want to know why I put the Robin suit on?” he has Gar's attention now. “I was tired of bullies getting away with picking on people.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Gar swallows. “How’d you end up with Batman?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Jason sighs. “Not such a long story, but I’ll skip for the sake of your entertainment. I was boosting cars, got caught and the rest is history.” He glances behind him at the house. “You know, I heard what happened at the asylum, heard Donna filling in Dawn and Hank last night. You killed someone and now it’s messing with your head - but it shouldn’t, cause you did what you had to do.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Gar scrunches his face. “Someone's dead – because of me.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“It was either him or you, man. You were protecting yourself against a bunch of freaks, and you need to be prepared to do it again,”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“I can still see him,” Gar shivers, looking down at his hands. “Smell him.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Look, there’s a difference between being a monster and beast,” Jason explains. “When I was a kid, I got picked on – every day. I was the kid with shoes that were too big and clothes that were too small, like some used toy no one wanted. The kids loved it. Ate it up like catnip. Ragging on me. This one kid – twice my size, used to kick the shit out of me after school. Chase me down.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Gar chokes on his words. “What did you do?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“One day, I decided I wasn't going to run home from school." He squares his shoulders. "I was going to wait for him outside the school gates, right outside, and only one of us was walking away, just one,” Jason holds his finger up. “I had a pipe in my hand – hidden behind my back.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“You hit him?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“I beat the shit out him,” Jason boasts. “Shattered his knee. Figured, if he couldn’t run anymore, then I wouldn’t have to.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“What happened after?” Gar questions, his eyes wide and his mouth agape._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“He never so much as looked in my direction again,” Jason reveals, pridefully. “I got kicked out of school, the first of many – point is, I stood up to him because I had to. It's called survival.” He slaps Gar’s chest. “You were just standing up for yourself, after they burned and tasered you for hours. Rachel stood up to her father so she could save you. It’s what Dick’s trying to do. We stand up to the bullies by whatever means necessary so they can’t bully anyone else.” He shrugs. “But if you can’t see that, maybe you don’t deserve the powers you got.” Jason turns on his heel._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“I had a nightmare,” Gar shouts, looking sheepish when Jason turns back. “I wasn’t myself – not really,” he glances down. “but I hurt someone I care about,”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Jason walks back. “Dude, you’re having nightmares because you’re looking at this all wrong,”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Gar bites his lip. “H-how should I be looking at it?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“As it is, not as it could be – not as it should be.” Jason smiles. “You’re a fucking tiger. Do you know how insanely cool that shit is?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“I’m not just a tiger,” Gar cries. “I don’t know what I am now – I – two days I was a gorilla. Tomorrow I could wake up a – grizzly bear. What if I can’t control it?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Who says you can’t control it? You’ve controlled the tiger all this time. No leash. No safe word.” He shrugs. “I say have fun with it or what’s the point of being special. Let the beast out. Don’t just turn into an animal, become it. Free your mind from this bullshit fear that you’re a monster. Give yourself over to the thing and see where it takes you, and I promise, if you get out of control. I’ll tranq you.” Jason throws his hands up. “Fuck, if I could do what you do, I’d be fucking shit up.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“You would?” Gar raises a quizzical brow._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Gar, you’re not like the rest of us. Embrace it. Parade that shit, man.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Gar's face cracks wide, into a smile. “I did embrace it, when I was – when I first turned, it took a while but then I loved it, you know. I loved being a tiger, feeling all that power. Being able to run so fast it felt like my feet weren’t touching the ground. The air so thin -,” his smile disappears._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“So, what’s the difference – you controlled the tiger. You can control anything else.” He moves closer. “You’re freaked. I totally get it, but you gotta see the flip side of this thing – you may be able to turn into any animal, any _thing _you want, anything you can think of, that’s got to be a little exciting.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“But what if-”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“Enough with the ifs, alright, you’re giving me a fucking headache.” Jason chastises. “As the tiger, you’re still Gar, right? You have the same emotions, memories, you recognize people you know,” Gar nods. “sounds like you’re complicating things to me.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“so, I should, turn on purpose?” Gar questions. "Practice?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Jason nods, finally, the kid gets it. “I think it’s fucking cool you’re green by the way. You’re not an ordinary tiger, so you shouldn’t look like one. “You’re an alpha,” Jason says, wrapping his arm around Gar’s shoulder as he pulls him back towards the house. “so be an alpha.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Gar smiles. “Thanks?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Jason digs his phone out. “want to see some footage of batman kicking the shits out a Russian gang?” Gar nods, and Jason tries not to pat himself on the back for thoroughly and successfully giving his first pep talk. This gig isn't so bad.____________________

____ &&&&& _ _ _ _

__  
__  
__  
_Gar stares at the ceiling, listening to Jason snore like a freight train on the floor. He’s been asleep a while. Down the hall he can hear Hank and Dawn discussing Dick’s capabilities as a leader, the former isn’t convinced – outside his window, he can hear Donna making excuses to her boss about missing work. But he can’t sleep. He’s in the room he got sick in and can’t help feeling, somehow, its poison is what crept into his dreams, so he decides he’ll wait for daybreak this time._  
  
  
  
  
  


____________________But he can't rest either._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________He can smell blood, and burnt flesh, and dirt, taste rust on his tongue. Feel every singular thread of the sheet he’s spread out on grazing his skin. Every nerve in his body is alert and firing messages back and forth in his brain and he can’t shut it off. He can smell things he shouldn’t be able to smell; hear things he shouldn’t be able to hear – and he feels everything around him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Climbing out of bed, he slips out of the room to wash his face in the bathroom. He hopes the running water will steal his focus, but like he wants it too much, distraction evades him – he is still sinking deep, into the other side, the animal side. Which animal, he doesn’t know, but its senses are sharp, so much that his body hair tickles, standing on end._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Shutting off the tap, he steps out into the hallway, and hears Angela coughing. He should go to bed, pretend she doesn’t exist, but his feet move in her direction anyway. Her door is ajar, and she shifts and grunts, pulling on the handcuff – freezing when he pushes the door open. She sighs with relief when she sees him, because he’s just a stupid kid._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“Can’t sleep?” Angela deduces, sitting herself up, with a struggle that flushes her cheeks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Gar swallows but says nothing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“If you need someone to say it, if you need to be reassured by a real adult, I’ll say it – everything is going to be fine.” She smiles warmly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“What did he do to me?” Gar asks, and when she frowns, he adds, “your psycho baby daddy,”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Angela makes a 0 shape with her face and shakes her head, smiling. “Kid, you are what you are. Embrace it and take your place in this world – like Raven.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“Raven?” Gar takes a step closer._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“Your friend is the bringer of death.” Angela says, adding, “yes, it’s what she was born to do,” when he shakes his head in disbelief. “I love fables, my mother read to me when I was a child, and I read to Rachel when she was a baby,” she glances up at him. “Did your mother ever read stories to you?” He clenches his jaw. “My favorite was always the one about the Scorpio and the frog. Have you heard that one?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Gar shakes his head, no._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“A scorpion met a frog on the bank of a steam one day – he asked the frog to carry him across on its back, but the frog was cautious because, well, it's a scorpion. Prey always has to be smarter than its predator, remember that," She narrows her eyes on him. "'How do I know you won't sting me?' the frog asked, and the scorpion said, 'if I did that, we would be die.'" Angela shrugs. "Sounds logically, right? 'so the frog lets the scorpion on its back, but midstream, the scorpion stings the frog, and as its wicked poison spreads through the frog's body, paralyzing him, he gasps, 'why?' the scorpion simply replies, 'it is my nature.'"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Gar shakes his head. "That's not Rachel. She would never hurt anyone."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Angela tilts her head at him. "I'm not talking about Rachel,"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Gar backs away from the bed and pulls the door, but his hands is glued to the handle._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________"All we can do is what's in our nature to do, Gar. Fate has much bigger plans for us. And no matter how hard we try to be something else, anything else, we can't help ourselves." Angela laughs. "Even if it goes against everything we could hope to want - against our own survival. Nature always wins."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Gar turns to her, his eyes hot and wet._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________"You are an animal." Angela growls. "You will always be an animal. And those people trying to keep their lives together, won't understand you because they're not like you. They don't see a child now, they only see a weapon-,"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________"Stop," Gar cries._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________"They will use you up and spit you out all in the name of fighting the good fight. They don't know the real fight is with themselves. Human nature. She's mother for a reason. Dick will run. Kory will explode trying to save this precious thing she's found. And you. You will _eat_."___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________"Stop," Gar growls, and his teeth descend and his fingernails turn into claws. Angela smiles and he runs, across the hall and back into the room where Jason sleeps undisturbed. He presses his palms against the wood and breathes deep, watching his claws shrink back._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Jason turns on his side, and sighs, and all Gar wants to do is wake up._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you enjoy this novella of a chapter? Do you want to hug Gar as much as I do? Is Jason right? Should someone stuff a sock in Angela's mouth? Also, Kory and Dick got it _on _! Surprise!__
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> _(Don't celebrate too soon though.)_  
> 


	4. Team Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dawn struggles, Hank's an insecure mess, and Dick finally opens up to Donna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You definitely need popcorn with this one. I wrote Dawn _and _Hank. ARGHHHHHH! Please forgive any mistakes you find.__

Dawn splashes water over her face and dabs the back of her neck. Being cooped up in a strange house with a palpable dark, and fluctuating energy is messing with her newly healed body, it’s once supple strength now rigid muscle and weary bones. An uneasy spirit settles between them, an itch, a buzz – pulling her away and she wants to follow, escape the oppressive anger of this house. Its walls breathe damp, warm air, stretching at night with a groan. The wooded floors pop and creak at odd hours in the night. Windows wide open, curtains pulled and a huge hole in the side of the house does little to let the light of the day in. it’s mood; shadowy and joyless, creeping under her skin, like a plant growing branches. She wants out. Now. 

 

So, she splashes her face again, to chill the fire beneath the surface of her skin. And to take out the notion, this house is anything other than 3 and a half walls and a roof with a dead body in it. Hidden away in the downstairs bathroom. 

 

Her feet tingle and she smiles because she felt it. She feels everything and more since she woke up, her skin clinging to her muscles, her muscles twitching around bone. All of it.

 

She’s still getting used to walking and talking, and though she doesn’t remember much after the fight on the roof back home, she’s aware of the miracle of her leaving the hospital on her feet. She owes Rachel for that, even though she doesn’t quite understand it, isn’t quite sure she wants to. 

 

But she also has a tight hold on her compassion – because she knows the girl, Rachel, whom she cares deeply about. The child with extraordinary abilities, but she does not know the other one. The one who lives beneath the girl’s skin, trapped between her rib cage, clawing its way out at any opportunity; when Rachel shows fear or anxiety. That one is dark, and unpredictable, and dangerous. 

 

She’s been hyper aware of Dove lately, too, as though they’re separate beings, apart from each other. As though the suit and those perfect wings carry with it, a sense of justice and humanity of its own. She finds herself wondering what she’ll do while knowing exactly what Dove will do if faced with an evil Rachel. She will defend the innocent. Always.

 

When the water can’t run anymore and her fingers have pruned, she turns it off and straightens her back. She doesn’t glance in the mirror, she isn’t there yet – here yet, or anywhere. Trying to find a foothold in the happenings before and during her fall is a slippery slope of foggy, incorporeal proportions. And she isn’t ready for the chase.

 

With a sigh, she leaves the bathroom and the first thing she hears is Dick’s voice. His room, or at least the one he’s been holed up in for the last two days is ajar and Kory’s in there with him. She realizes, she hasn’t had a chance to really gauge the woman, but for the fact she’s stunning, Dawn has no idea who she is or what she is – what her wants are and how it mirrors or diverges from everything else. She stands out, not in an uncomfortable, misfit way, but something there will not give, and as a reader of people, it’s unsettling. Or maybe that’s the house, too.

 

For a split second she pauses, and then decides she’s going to walk past casually, and slip down the stairs like a normal person. As she passes though, she hears something in Dick’s voice, a tenderness that stops her in her tracks, listening as their voices slip out of the room.

 

“Kory, I promise – I’m good. I’ve learned my lesson in not saying anything. I won’t do that again.”

 

“I know you don’t want to show weakness to the others, but you’re going to push too hard to prove you’re okay-,”

 

Dick sighs. “I have to be able to lead them, and in order to do that, I have to show them I can or this whole thing falls apart and we don’t get Rachel back – and then what, the world just ends?”

 

“The world isn’t just yours to save. It’s everyone’s, all of us.” Kory counters. “If you want to lead them, show them this you – show them who you are.”

 

“Who’s that?” Dick asks.

 

“Not Robin.” Kory says. “Start there.”

 

He huffs, and Dawn knows he’s afraid. He’s always done two things when he’s afraid – doubled down or ran, he did nothing in the middle, not as long as she had known him. Surrender wasn’t in his vernacular.

 

“If you want these people to trust you as their leader,” Kory continues, “if you want me to, you have to trust us back. If this is a team it has to work as one. This can’t be about control, it has to be about trust, and togetherness. Oh, and be nice.”

 

Dick laughs then. “Nice. You know I think one of the main reasons Bruce liked to work alone was to avoid all that.”

 

“You’re not him.”

 

Silence. Dawn is tempted to lean back, peep into the crack, but she resists.

 

“Dick -,” Kory’s voice is quiet now, softer. “about last night,”

 

Dick interjects. “We’ll talk about it. We’ll talk about everything. Just -,” he breathes out. “let’s do this first, yeah?” in his voice, she hears him asking for permission, and when Kory grants it, Dawn moves from the door.

 

She grinds her teeth and makes her way down the stairs, smiling at Hank when she finds him waiting for her at the bottom. Gar waves, his grin apologetic though he has nothing to be sorry about, and Jason throws the peace sign up at her, jutting his chin out.

 

She smells cinnamon and assumes Donna must be in the kitchen, righting her poor night of sleep with a heaping mug of hot chocolate and cinnamon.

 

“You’ve been gone a while,” Hank leans close, pressing a tender kiss to her temple.

 

“Just a headache.” She isn’t settled and she isn’t quite sure what it is she’s feeling or what she’s feeling it about. Rachel is AWOL with her demonic father, she’s up from a coma, Gar’s a tiger – but it’s Dick, even thinking his name jolts her. He and Kory have a thing, a bond that permeates the house, she saw it the moment she set eyes on them: awkward and unsure, but in fear for one another. 

 

There was a current, warm and electrical, pulling them together – she’d seen it even after his collapse. Kory being near even though she wasn’t touching, allowing she and Donna to tend to him. 

 

A rock the size of a toaster sits in the pit of her stomach, and she shifts to rid herself of its weight.

 

“Hey,” Hank’s voice penetrates her thoughts. “you okay?” it’s soft and close, for her ears only.

 

Dawn leans back and tips her chin up, smiling at him. But the toaster grows warm and heavy, and she shifts again, a little out of his reach. She can’t give this feeling a name, it’s as if the language for it hasn’t yet been formed, something old but foreign, yet to be understood. It isn’t pure or romantic jealousy, though she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit in the privacy of her mind that it was there somewhere. But it was more than that, enough to linger on every nerve in her body. “I’m fine,” she says finally, curling her fingers in his shirt to pull him down to her mouth.

 

The noise shrinks and Dawn pulls away to find Dick and Kory descending the stairs. 

 

Watching Dick’s shift uncomfortable under their eyes, clearing his throat to speak, she drops her head and leans into Hank, but then he whispers her name she snaps her head back up to find him.

 

His limp is less visible now as he moves towards her with a light in his eyes.

 

“Dick,” she says as he closes the gap and pulls her into him, holding her tight. “Good to see you on your feet.” And relief floods her.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I couldn’t see you before, after Trigon – we spoke but,”

 

“You don’t have to explain,” Dawn pulls away, glimpsing the clench in Hank’s jaw. “I’m just glad you’re up, so I could tell you – all of you,” taking a breath, she glances up at Hank, who’s wearing a mask of confusion. “I think Hank and I should head back,” she takes her stand beside him. “If Rachel was able to find us, contact me there, then maybe she can again and then we can figure out-,”

 

“Dawn?” Hank begins, as his throat turns red.

 

“It’s not a good idea to split up, bro,” Jason says.

 

“I hate to agree with the kid, but we need to be together for when shit explodes.”

 

“Hank’s right,” Dick adds. “We need to stay close at least until this thing is over. I know we can’t stay here, matter fact, I think it’s high time we haul ass out of here, but there’s a few things to do first.”

 

“What does over look like?” Donna asks, emerging from the kitchen with a white mug between her hands. “Just so I know,”

 

“Trigon destroyed or trapped.” Dick offers, and sighs, pushing his hands into his pocket. He glances at Kory and Dawn sees it, a nod of encouragement. “Thanks to Hank here walking around with a mini pharmacy, I’m drugged up good and on the fast road to recovery, but as I said, we have to cover our tracks.” He swallows. “and I don’t think I’ll do anyone much good tagging along, so I’m going sit this out.”

 

“First day on the job and already you’re taking sick days.” Hank groans. Meanwhile Dawn is trying to figure out how long Kory has been around to have such an impact on Dick. The one she knows would limp out there, broken and bruised to get the job done, and he wouldn’t listen to anyone. Old Dick was a lone wolf with a plan he kept close to the chest or in that little silver case of his. 

 

The Dick she’s looking at is trying something different. He is surrendering. He was never socialized so he’s uneasy in crowds, but he’s never been insecure and yet she sees a humble man before them. She wonders if Kory is the reason, or Trigon, or maybe both.

 

“In the meantime,” Dick asserts. “We’re going to need to train. We’re going to need a place to train.” He glances at Kory, still holding onto the railing. “And when we do, I want Kory to lead. She has a natural fighting ability, intuition, skill and form,” he shrugs, “and that’s without her powers.”

 

“Sweet,” Jason shrugs.

 

Dawn notes the surprise on Kory’s face, that tells her his announcement was unexpected, but her smile says, it’s welcomed.

 

“I think you could really help us get the edge we need,” then he glances at Donna, “I want you help,” and back to Kory. “if that’s something you’d be willing to do?”

 

Kory nods. “I’ll give it a try.”

 

He nods, a thanks. “Before we go, we need to erase our presence here. Donna and I will wipe this place down, in the meantime, I’ll need my briefcase, the police radio and Kory’s book on Trigon. It’s important we get it.”

 

“I got it,” Jason springs to his feet.

 

“Wait,” Dick says, “I appreciate that,” he clears his throat and looks at Hank. “Would you go?”

 

“Fuck no,” Hank says.

 

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” Jason spits. “Gar can come with,”

 

Hank grins wide. “OK, yes. You’ve convinced me.”

 

“Actually,” Dick starts. “I think Gar should stay here with me - and Kory,”

 

Gar sits up, suddenly alert and in the room with everyone else. “Why?” he swallows, and then stands, straightening his clothes. “I’d rather go with Jason and Hank – to, you know, get some fresh air.” He smiles, but it doesn’t do much to hide the weariness in his face or the dark circles shadowing his eyes. Poor kid. He brushes his shoulders up by his ears, almost as though asking for permission. “I’ll be okay,”

 

Dick glances at Kory, and she sighs, before nodding. “Alright fine,” he relents. “but we need to talk when you get back, okay?”

 

“Right,” Hank huffs out, rubbing his hands together. “What do you say we get out of this heavy shit – C’mon kids.” His farewell kiss is chaste, and then he’s out the door.

Gar hurries out behind him and Jason winks at Dick. “I got him.” before leaving on their heels.

 

“I’m going to head back to the warehouse.” Kory says. “I have something I have to do before we go.” She gives him a look, and he seems to understand and agree without saying a word. “Maybe I’ll find something that can help us.”

 

“Good idea.” Dick nods. “You shouldn’t go alone though-,”

 

“I’ll go with you,” Dawn offers, noticing how rigid Dick gets, and how Donna’s face freezes. “If that’s okay?” and now she’s the kid who got to class ten minutes late and missed everything.

 

“I’ll be fine,” Kory smiles. “I can take care of myself.”

 

“Yeah, of course,” Dawn says. “But we don’t know who’s out there, how many followers Trigon has. The last one I went up against broke my body.” She swallows then, pushing tongue between her teeth to stop her mouth from sticking. “I’m sure you can take of yourself, but you don’t have eyes at the back of your head. I can be your eyes.”

 

“I’ll go,” Dick moves towards the door. “Dawn, you stay with Donna, one of you can watch Angela while the other wipes this place down.”

 

“Dick,” Donna says with a heaviness in her voice.

 

“I thought you were taking it easy,” Dawn says. “If you ran into followers, you’d be potentially, leaving Kory vulnerable and yourself.”

 

“He’s staying here,” Kory glowers at him. 

 

“Kory,” Dick’s voice fades.

 

“Look, what’s going on?” Dawn asks. “Is there something Hank and I should know?”

 

“It’s okay,” Kory says. “Come on,” moving closer to Dick, she adds. “If you trust her then so do I. Do you?”

 

Dick glances at Dawn, and nods. “Yeah. I do.”

 

Dawn sees his hesitation, senses fear in him, a protectiveness over Kory and shrinks where she stands, wondering if she’s overstepped. They glance at each other and there’s moment of heavy silence between them, and she is compelled to look away, feeling like she’s looking in on something intimate and private.

 

“Be careful,” Dick says.

 

“I’ll see you both soon,” Kory saunters out the door without a second glance and Dick’s shoulder sag a little, like he’s carrying something on his chest that grows heavy at the sight of her leaving. Like he’s never going to see her again.

 

Dawn follows behind her without a word to she and Hank’s truck.

 

“Mind if I drive?” Kory asks.

 

“Lead the way,” Dawn hurls the keys over the hood and Kory snatches them out of the air.

&&&&&

Hank’s boots are heavy, and he’s heavy in them, but he’s hot so he doesn’t give a shit that he’s stomping ahead, forcing that little wank stain and the baby tiger to hustle after him. He wants out of this shit show already, and the curtains haven’t even been fucking lifted yet.

 

He wishes Rachel had left more than a footnote in Dawn’s head about what they were getting themselves into, at the very least a warning about what a dick Jason was. Something, anything, to prepare him for the indeterminable amount of time he was going to have to spend with these people, especially Dick ‘Fucking’ Grayson.

 

His blood boils and his face flushes with heat, all involuntarily, at the mention of the man’s name. Arrogant fuck. He’s sick of him thinking he can waltz where he wants, take and do what he wants with no repercussions. He hates it. He also hates how powerless he is to not be pissed – how just beneath it, like a thin sheet of skin, he panics every time Dick comes around Dawn. How his inaccessible nature was like catnip to a healer like her in the past, because all she does is fix and heal, and repair and mend people. Because it’s who she is, if her being with him is anything to go by.

 

And he knows, he’d be way more fucked up without her. Dawn loves him. He knows she does, but sometimes he catches himself wondering if their life is enough. If he’s enough. He’s never been brave enough to seek the answers.

 

He breathes deep into his belly, and stops in his tracks, turning his shoulder back to where he came from, where the boys are coming from, waffling on about whatever the fuck teenage boys waffle on about these days. “Where the fuck, are we?” He asks.

 

“Um,” Jason stops and turns in a circle. "Good question."

 

“What the fuck?” Hank bellows. “We’re going back – I don’t even know why we’re out here, none of us know where we are because we weren’t out here two nights ago fending off some lumpy ass demon.”

 

“Wait,” Jason says, and already, Hank’s temperature is spiking for the insufferable, cocky, shit. “Gar knows.”

 

Gar’s ears and brows perk up. “Huh?”

 

Jason crosses his arms. “You agreed you should practice, right? Well, here’s your chance.”

 

“Tell me how Gar turning into a lizard, or whatever is going to get us out of this Blair wood’s project?”

 

“Ignore the raging dumb ass,” Jason says, cupping Gar by the shoulder. “Look at me – you don’t have to turn. Just listen – feel. Vibe it.”

 

“Are you serious?” Hank goads. “We’ve been walking fucking circles, so we’re going back.”

 

“You have instincts,” Jason says. “not just human ones. Use them. A smell. A feeling in the air. The skills of a fucking tracker. You can do this. Find the scent. Tell us where to go.”

 

Gar gives a small nod and steps forward. Hank crosses his arms, sighing impatiently and watches the boy crouch, running his hand over the dirt. He closes his eyes and sniffs deep into the air. When he opens them again, they’re glowing green and a growl rustles in his chest, deep and primal.

 

“That’s it,” Jason goads.

 

Gar stands and exhales. “Kory and Donna were here.” he says. “We’re going the right way, it’s up ahead,”

 

“Alright,” Jason holds his fist up and Gar fist bumps him. “Nice.”

 

Hank rolls his eyes. “Alright, let’s get a move on,” he says, adding, “good one, kid.” With the boys on his heels, he pushes through the branches. As they near the edge of the wood, several voices come into focus. He holds his fist up and the boys pause, then he lifts his finger for them to be quiet, and they hush their questions on cue.

 

He moves slower, lighter in his boots when he needs to be and stops on the cusp. Yellow tape stretches far and plenty along the road. The toppled truck lays on its side with markers around it, but there’s no sign of any bodies.

 

Jason kneels slowly beside his leg, and Gar peers from behind his arm to get a look.

 

“First the explosion down on Dayton, and now this,” a uniform says as he passes them, unaware of their presence. “can’t be coincidence,”

 

“And now with the chief AWOL,” another adds. “something is not adding up. You think it’s all connected?”

 

“We’ll find out. Deputy’s heading to the Chief’s home. He took a few personal days, Dep said he probably got laid – but when he didn’t show up this morning – what with this catastrophe and no bodies. Vehicle not registered. I’ll say it’s the most fun this town has seen in a minute.”

 

Hank slowly steps back until they’re far enough away to speak and turns to the boys. “Maybe this little shit was onto something back there,” he says to Gar. “I’m going to need a favor from you. Two actually.”

 

“What?” Gar asks begrudgingly. 

 

“We’re going need some kind of large animal to get their attention long enough for Jason and me to loot the truck.”

 

“Or we could kick their asses,” Jason adds.

 

Hank glares at him. “Don't be an idiot,” and then back to Gar. “And then, I’m going to need you turn into the fastest animal you can think off and get back to the house to warn the others.”

 

“Cheetahs, right?” Jason guesses.

 

“Heh,” Gar cries, as he shrugs out of his jacket.

&&&&&

Dick busies himself wiping down the piano as Donna skips down the steps. “How is she?”

 

“Watered,” Donna says. “So,” she sings, and Dick rolls his eyes, because he knows her songs so well, too well, though he knows she doesn’t care how obvious she is. “earlier – that was intense,”

 

“Stop,” Dick groans.

 

“Last night – the two of you-,”

 

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Dick sighs, glancing over his shoulder at her. 

 

“I don’t think I am,” Donna shrugs, snatching the cloth from him, she starts on the railing. “be careful, it isn’t the worst thing you could’ve said, it’s sweet, to the point, but weak in the grand scheme of things, considering the gigantic thing you both went through together. What were you going to say,” she steps back to look at him. “No, what did you want to say?”

 

“It’s complicated,”

 

“Isn’t everything when it involves you?”

 

He huffs. “Weren’t you the one reminding me of how bad I screwed things up with Dawn just a few days ago, and now what, you’re pushing me into Kory’s arms?”

 

“Into Kory’s arms, huh?” Donna ticks her head to the side with a goading smile, but when he doesn’t take the bait, instead sighing and walking out onto the front porch, she is close behind. “I just want you to do what you feel for once. No risk assessments. No logic. Go with the feeling wherever its leading you.”

 

Dick settles on the swing, and Donna hoists herself up onto the porch railing, leaning against the column for support. He isn’t sure he can bring himself to say it aloud, to relive the horrors he witnessed inside Trigon’s dream, but he isn’t so sure he can live with it any longer either. “It’s complicated.”

 

“Okay, Dick Grayson, you tell me what you saw in that hellhole or I’m calling your daddy.”

 

Dick humphs, glaring up at her. 

 

“I know you’re worried about her,” Donna says, and he looks up at her, disarmed for now. “Kory – you are, aren’t you?”

 

“The less people know about her, and the - ship,” he still can’t believe that’s real. “the better.”

 

“I get it, but it’s more than that,” Donna’s brows knit tightly together. “I want to help you, Dick. I want to support you because that’s what friends are for. What family’s for. OK – yes, you screwed things up with Dawn, but you were a kid then. You’re not now, so you can’t keep walking around emotionally constipated – or you risk screwing up again.”

 

“It’s not that simple,” Dick frowns at her. she doesn’t get it.

 

“Oh my God,” Donna smiles. “You have actual feelings for her. I mean, there’s something there, I saw it from her, but – this is real – you have real feelings for Kory and you’re terrified. Why?”

 

“Because she died.” Dick blurts.

 

“Come again,”

 

“The hallucination – dream or whatever. He killed her.” Dick takes a deep breath and leans forward, pressing his elbows into his thighs. “Bruce killed her.” he waits for her to break the tension, to reassure or settle him with her premature, but age-old wisdom, but she doesn’t. and the longer she forces him to sit in his confession, the more time he has to remember it all, and feel it again.

 

His tongue remembers Kory’s taste, his nose, her scent and his fingertips re courses the map of her skin, both real and imagined. Mixed. Confused. Infused. Experienced and fantasized. He aches. He grieved her, and then she was there, in his room, kissing him. It was like the other stuff never happened.

 

Dick shifts on the swing, leans back. Donna is never lost for words, and yet. “Really?” he finally speaks. “Nothing?” Clenching his jaw, he stands to his feet and crosses the small distance to the swinging door, and pauses, turning back to her. “You know, you told me to talk, and I did. I know I screwed everything up, Rachel being gone, Kory risking her life to pull me out – is all my fault,” he chokes. “And Gar, he-,”

 

“He manipulated you, Dick,” Donna jumps down. “Trigon. He manipulated you. He still is.”

 

“No,” Dick frowns. “He’s not in my head anymore, I would-,”

 

“I don’t mean he’s still controlling you,,” Donna clarifies, pulling him to sit down on the swing. “I mean this second guessing, all the guilt. The fear. He tried to break you by showing you all the ways your life could go horribly wrong. He wants to disarm you by stripping you, so he can take the world without a fight.” She squeezes his knee. "Well he chose the wrobg person " 

 

Dick scrubs his hand over his face. “What about Dawn, and the kid? Even you said I screwed things up – so did Rachel. The way I handled things back then -,”

 

“He used it against you,” Donna growls. “Yes, I said you screwed up, because you did, but we knew you weren’t in love with her. You wanted to be because you never want to hurt anybody, but when that didn’t work you ran. It was a dickish way to end things, but you can’t make yourself love someone, not in the real world and clearly, not even in a dream. Dawn moved on. She’s happy.”

 

“Yeah,” Dick let’s go of a weary sigh. "She is."

 

“Kory is here, safe and sound.” Donna says. “You got to figure out what that means – what it could mean.”

“She has a ship.” Dick says. “I’m the least of her problems. She deserves to know where she comes from. After we get Rachel back, she’ll probably do just that. What reason would she have to stay?”

 

“I can think of three,” Donna says. “And I don’t know her as well,”

 

“It’s only a little over a week, almost two,” Dick laughs. “It’s insane, right?"

 

“And yet,” Donna says. “Standing outside that house with her the other night – it felt like an entire month. It’s messed up but trauma. What someone does when the chips are down, how they react to danger, it’s like a cheat sheet into who they are. You learn things faster. Feel things that maybe would take a little longer in normal circumstances. This isn’t one of those times.”

 

Dick bites his lip. He doesn’t want to be bonded by trauma, but the truth is, they are. Everything they’ve been through since running into Rachel has been one huge event after the other, with each other, in front of each other. He’s seen Kory afraid and strapped down, tears on her face and she’s seen him lose control. Seen his mask and the face behind it.

 

He needs her, trusts her, and wants her though he doesn’t quite understand it yet. Something deep down has been reaching for her since they met. he doesn't believe in fate and destiny, but nothing comes closer to describing the weight and shape of this thing they have. This inevitability he can't shake.

 

“It’s embarrassing how obvious you are,” Donna teases, punching in him in the leg. "My god." 

 

“Shut up,” Dick shoots back. "Why are you-"

 

“Always right? C'mon," she smirks. "Do I have to remind you every time?" A sigh. "If after this, Kory wants answers – who better to help her find them than a Detective?”

 

Dick blows through his nose. “Donna,”

 

“Dick, you’re not that little boy anymore. Your pain doesn’t have to be your story now. Those people out there who found you. They can be your new story. They need you and you need them, so just surrender already, and quit being stubborn.”

 

Dick stands up and pulls her up with him. “The upstairs bathroom needs wiping.” He hands her the cloth. “I’m going to wipe down the kitchen – once everyone’s back, I’m calling the cops. The Sheriff’s been here too long already.”

 

“Good talk,” Donna calls after him, and he smiles.

&&&&&

Gar growls at the small crowd of uniforms, trotting away from the taped scene as they give him chase. Angela’s words ring in his head: ‘You’re a weapon to them.’ But he pushes it aside, not only because he doesn’t want to lose focus and get shot, but because she doesn’t want to believe it could be true. Doesn’t believe it.

 

He watches between them as Hank and Jason slip under the tape and disappear behind the truck, but his attention is stolen by the sound of a shot gun being cocked back. Gar growls low into his belly and they stumble back into each other – then he darts for the wood.

 

“Where’d it go?” a uniform screams, firing a shot into the air. “Yeah, you better run.”

 

Gar slips into the bushes and turns human, relieved to find Hank and Jason jogging back. He’s immediately reminded he’s naked when Hank groans and turns his head. “Oh, sorry. Heh.” He laughs nervously. 

 

“We got everything,” Jason holds up the brief case and the book. “Thanks dude.”

 

“Now get a move. Go.” Hank says, gripping the radio. “We’ll be right behind you.”

 

Gar crouches down into a tiger, hoping it’ll be fast enough to outrun the Deputy who has god knows what kind of head start. Hank and Jason’s voices fade into the wind as he takes off, thudding through the mud and leaping over bark and mounds. 

 

He hopes he gets there before it’s too late.

&&&&&

Dick wipes down the last of the kitchen, but even with all the windows and doors open the smell of death reeks into everything. Kory wanted to bury him, but he couldn’t. The man had a family, friends, and work colleagues wondering what has happened to him. The least they can do is lead them to him once they are free and clear.

 

He frowns. “You know, this guy’s the town’s Sheriff.” He says as Donna comes down the stairs. “Two days and no word?”

 

“Yeah,” Donna agrees. “I guess, we were all so preoccupied with you waking up, we didn’t consider that,”

 

“It’s strange though, right?” Dick drops the cloth on the back of the sofa as he leaves the kitchen. “No police activity. None. You think the force field Trigon put up extended to the roads, maybe blocked them?”

 

“Maybe, but it’s been down,” Donna says.

 

“Right,” Dick says. “We need to move on before our luck run’s out. If he lives close, it’s only a matter of time before their search broadens.”

 

“Everything’s been wiped. All we need is the team and we’re out of here.” Donna says. “We taking mummy dearest with us or leaving her cuffed to the bed post?”

 

Dick considers the latter, and sighs. “With us,” he says. “For now, after we get Rachel back, she goes to jail for murder.” He moves to the stairs. “We should get her down here.”

 

“I got it.” Donna skips past him.

 

“Donna,” Dick says firmly, when she blocks his passage up the stairs, and she rolls her eyes and moves. “I’m telling Kory.”

 

“Love that the two of you are friends, by the way.” Dick says, sarcasm dripping from his lips as he follows her up the stairs.

&&&&&

Gar leaps out of the wood and gallops towards the house, stopping himself with his nails raking through the mud when he sees a uniform closing in on Angela’s house. Three cruisers sit at the bottom of the hill out of sight full of men. He can hear their hearts beating, smell their sweat.

He turns back and stands, stretching his back, his chest pounding, and his breath harsh as he watches ths man creep forward, the butt of his hand rested on the gun attached to his hip. He just wants to howl to let them know, but he wasn’t fast enough, and now he’s too late.

 

“We’re screwed.” Gar cry-laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dawn's jealousy isn't romantic. Dick finally opened up. Hank may be in melt down. and Gar. That's it. Gar. I hope you enjoyed this long read.


	5. Escape Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's about time the team gets the hell out of that house and town.

The ride is quiet, but to Kory’s surprise, not the uncomfortable kind, considering they don’t know each other very well. Dawn seems deep in thought which suits her fine because she has questions too. Like, how long had she and Dick boned and if it was before, during or after Hank? Was a triangle happening, or was it an unrequited third wheel type deal?

She doesn’t really want to know any of it, in fact, it’s the last thing she wants to think about in the scheme of things, but something’s changed between she and Dick. Her feelings have and are growing more – complicated. They have a physical line of communication, and they’re very good at it. When one of them have something to work through, something too heavy for words, sex works fine. Or it _did_ up until last night. The biting, and scratching, pinning, and thrusting was enough, it hit the spot _for a while_.

But then Trigon happened and now the look in Dick’s eye has changed. And last night, while lying beside him, after they’d had sex, and then made love, she felt an unfamiliar sensation spreading throughout her body. Maybe it was the fear of seeing Dick in danger or being inside his head and witnessing his intimate memories that compounded her feelings for him, she doesn’t know. If she looks back further, the concern and worry he shows for Rachel and Gar could’ve done it, or the way he touched her the night they escaped the Asylum. But last night, there was something soft, and vulnerable about him – out of control, feverish, even desperate. Afterwards, he held her close enough to make them one, his fingers gripping her tight like he never wanted her to slip from them, ever.

The thing, _their thing_ , is changing shape – growing, spreading wide and warm in her chest, and now Dawn is here, and that’s a thing, too. Maybe not the same thing, but a thing, nonetheless. It’s fractured, but it’s there, and she needs to know what it is because he spoke to her last night with his body, in a way he’d never spoken to her with words. She needs to put it out of her head before the shit storm that is Trigon rains down on them, but to do that, she first needs the mystery in her mind put to bed.

Kory pulls up outside the warehouse and climbs out without a word. She unravels the chain and pushes the doors open, greeted with musky air and space. So much space. The warmth of her ship sends a charge along her skin, and she shivers, the sweet, low buzz of its power calling her to it. She glances confusion on Dawn’s face as she follows, walking through the _empty_ warehouse with searching eyes.

“Are we meeting someone here?” Dawn finally speaks, taking in all the rust, and dust and water as Kory stops. She freezes as purple light washes over them both, her eyes growing large and her chin tilting up as the ship reveals itself. “Oh my god,” she cries.

“X’hal,” And with a loud clank, it opens its mouth and Kory steps on. “Come on,” she says, and makes her way through its belly, past the console and into the cockpit. With a heavy sigh, she stares, before slumping into the pilot’s seat. Reaching out, she touches the motherboard, barely grazing it and takes in all its symbols, but the translations remain muddied in the endless ocean of her memory.

Kory presses the buttons aimlessly, and growls when it renders no actions. She realizes, she doesn’t even remember how to turn the fucking thing on, let alone fly it. But there’s something here, in the ship, she can feel it. She’s felt it ever since they left to rescue Rachel – the ship calling her back to it, and now she’s here it isn’t saying a goddamned thing.

Dawn clears her throat. “Are you from Krypton?”

Kory settles back, tapping the cracked navigation screen. “Tamaran,” she replies, and it feels truer this time. “there has to be something here.”

Dawn keeps her distance, doesn’t crowd her in the cockpit, but instead, finds interest on the turning projection of the planet burning. Kory is grateful for the space because this no memory thing is putting her in the worst fucking mood. “and you came to Earth, Donna said, to save your world,”

“I don’t know anymore,” Kory mutters, taking a breath. “all I know is – all I _remember_ is what Trigon is, and what he does – what he’s going to do, if he isn’t stopped.” She glances over her shoulder.

Dawn circles the console, studying every inch. “But you can help us?”

“Who knows?” Kory slips out of the pilot chair and joins her in the belly of her ship. She touches the screen and another projection loads of Trigon in his true form.

Dawn’s hands fly over her mouth and her eyes fill. “I’ve seen things – but this,” she cries. “He’s a monster.”

“I came back here in case I missed something, anything, a clue-,”

“Something to jog your memory,” Dawn deduces, with a solemn smile, and Kory sees warmth in her eyes, and nods. “Must be scary,” she swallows. “not knowing who you are, or where you’re from – family, friends -,”

“Home,” Kory clenches her jaw. “It’s been coming back in pieces,” she touches her forehead, her fingers gentle, almost afraid to command her fragile mind in case it collapses on her. “images, voices – the language,” she practices a word, says it aloud and the screens in the cockpit buzz to life, lighting up. She moves towards it and hovers over the motherboard, its symbols now glowing, and taps in a sequence, letting muscle memory take over.

“Kory,” Dawn calls.

Kory turns back to the console and sees a video in the projection’s place. “Play,” she says in her language, and the image starts to move. 

The screen rocks as something hits the ship, and she watches herself tap furiously at the motherboard before the ship's hit again. She navigates the control systems expertly and sends a distress call. It patches through and her tongue curls and twists over foreign words as she dispatches the coordinates of her location. She recognizes isolated words, and one word among it is, “attacked”. She’s hit again, and her screens and the motherboard goes black. Her ship dives through space, rumbling, and hissing. She pulls on the throttle and the ship thrusts forward, then she pulls the steering wheel up, trying to get back on course. It gains speed, and everything trembles, like it could fall apart at any minute.

The video freezes, and everything goes black. 

Kory swallows, and slowly backs away from the console. She tries summoning the memory to her, but it remains out of reach. She landed, that much she knew, but Austria. Konstantin. Everything else remains in the fog. Rachel became her only anchor when she woke up in that car with nothing but a warm coat.

“You don’t remember any of this, do you?” 

Kory shakes her head. “Pieces of it, I knew something went wrong, but I didn’t know what-,” she sighs, the effort to remember threatens to reward her with a migraine. “I must have been closing in on Rachel – I think that was the last thing, before it all went away.”

“Kory, whoever or _whatever_ attacked you,” Dawn swallows. “what if they’re here, too?”

“It could’ve been anything,” Kory reasons. “Space weather, a malfunction in the core drive, we don’t know. I don’t know.” She shrugs, but she thinks, somewhere, deep down, she does know. “Maybe Adamnson and his people knew about me from the beginning, maybe they found me – got to me somehow and wiped me clean.” She steps away. “I don’t know anything right now, but the longer Trigon is here, the less chance we have of sending him back to hell.” Pinning Dawn with a look, she adds, “That’s the priority. Getting Rachel back is the mission.”

“And if we can’t – send him back?”

“You saw it,” Kory cries. “He’ll destroy everyone and everything.” And now she fears, he may not be the only thing to worry about.

&&&&&&

“Think small, Gar. Think small.” Gar repeats, crouch-walking across the green, and past the porch as the cop’s radio buzzes with chatter. He makes his way to the back of the house, staring momentarily at the splinted, rusted cat flap before wriggling his body through to the other side. Home free without need for a tetanus shot, he stretches himself out, startling when Dick comes ambling down the stairs, patting his pockets down.

“Gar?” Dick raises an eyebrow and shimmies out of his jacket without a beat, flinging it over. “What’s wrong?”

“There are cops 300 feet away, barricading our way out of here.” He laughs nervously, as he slips into Dick’s jacket and pulls it closed. “Also, the Deputy is like thirty seconds from knocking on that door.”

Dick turns to the stairs, holding his hands up to Donna as she starts to descend. He points to the door as a shadow fills the window frame and she slowly backs up onto the landing. Then he turns to Gar and jacks his thumb in the direction of the kitchen. “Hide somewhere, anywhere,” he whispers, stepping towards the front door. 

“What are you going to do?” Gar asks.

“Go,” Dick mouths.

It knocks again and Gar leans around the wall for a peek as Dick opens the door, holding his jacket, that smells amazing. And now he wants to know what Dick wears. He jerks back when the cop looks straight through the house, and tiptoes past the pantry, into the bathroom – with the Sheriff. Oh God. No. Gar heaves when he sees him under the sheet in the bathtub. Giving him his back, he slowly pushes the door closed and leans his forehead against it. 

“Don’t freak out, Gar.” He whispers the mantra to himself. “Do not freak,” he makes a fist, “out,” but the smell, and the pale skin, “you can do this,” and all the blood turns his insides cold. Oh yeah, he’s freaked out. He is super freaked out right now, and nope, he can’t do this.

Swallowing hard, he pulls the door open and listens out for voices. “Deputy actually, name’s Brady.” Gar glances at the cat flap, contemplating escape. He could run for it, but what if Dick needs him, or Donna, and he’s outside, waiting for Hank and Jason when he could be helping them.

Gar cranes his neck to the side and pulls his shoulders back, shrinking with an exhale.

&&&&&&

“Detective Grayson,” Dick says, eyeing the height and bulk on the Deputy on the doorstep. “C.P.D.”

“Detective?” Brady says with enthusiasm. 

Dick pulls his badge from his back pocket and holds it up for the man to study, before tucking it back. “I tried to call the station actually, let you guys know I was in town, but there isn’t much reception out here,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Brady breezes out a laugh. “So uh, if this isn’t your property, what are you doing in it?” he squeezes his big body through, brushing Dick and enters the house, scouring their surroundings; a ravaged sofa, a splintered piano and a broken table with a hole in the wall. Looks great. “What brings you here, Detective?” he offers a smile over his shoulder. “out of your jurisdiction, technically, trespassing,”

Dick glances up the stairs when he hears a creak that draws Deputy Brady’s attention. “I’m on a missing person’s case,” he opens his phone and shows him a poorly lit picture of Rachel. “teenage girl from Detroit.” Placing the phone by his thigh, he speed dials Kory. “I tracked her to Dayton station just before that explosion,”

“Crazy, wasn’t it?” Brady sighs, moving towards the stairs.

“Uh, yeah,” Dick moves towards the kitchen and holds in a sigh when Brady returns his attention to him. “Took me two days, but I tracked her here, to this house – I have no idea who the owner is, or how long it’s been since anyone’s lived here,” he wipes his finger along the piano and blows dust from it. “but I’m guessing it’s been a while.”

“Angela Azarath – ran away years ago.” The Deputy shrugs. “So, did you find her?”

Dick cackles, tilting his head at the man. “I’m still here, Deputy. No.” He says. “The trail went cold, but when I saw that truck outside, saw the state of the door, I let myself in,” he swallows. “that’s when I found the body.”

Brady narrows his eyes on Dick. “You buried the lead there, Detective,” he closes the distance between them, and Dick closes his phone, making a fist around it. Him being there doesn’t look good, no matter how expertly he can weave a tale, and he knows how protective cops are over each other. If Brady even gets a whiff he had anything to do with the Sheriff’s untimely death, he’ll have a fight on his hands to escape custody. 

“Just announcing myself first,” Dick says. “So, you know I’m a friendly,”

“’Preciate it,” Brady nods. “Male, female, young, old, purple, red?” moving towards the kitchen, he takes a step, before jumping back as a cat pounces him. “Fuckshitwhatthehell?” he screams.

Dick’s stomach drops as the green cat stalks past Brady, and he swallows. 

“What a funny looking cat,” Brady raises his brow, tilting his head to get a closer look.

“that’s what I thought when I found him here,” Dick says as Gar strides towards him, encircling his leg as he brushes past, mewling, until he’s picked up. Dick sighs, holding Gar against him. “Looks like some teenagers got a hold of this poor guy and took a spray can to him.”

Brady laughs. “Looks like,” he scowls at Gar and then shoots Dick a grin. He definitely isn’t given off cat-person vibes. “I’m glad he seems to have taken a liking to you, but the body, sir?”

“Right,” Dick places Gar on the stairs, giving him a last look before glancing up. “Go on, shoo,” he says, turning back to Brady. He cups the back of his neck, rubbing a little, as tension build there, slowly pooling down his spine and walks Brady into the kitchen. “Male, 40s maybe, no I.D.” he says as he passes the pantry. “doesn’t appear to have any defensive wounds, probably knew the perp.”

“And you tried to call this in, sir?” Brady frees his radio and rogers in, but he’s met with fuzz on the other line. “Copy?”

“Soon as I found him, yes,” Dick opens the bathroom door and lets Brady take the lead. “An hour ago, maybe more.”

“That truck outside is our County Sheriff’s. Tommy Carson.” Brady walks over to the body, his movements slow, and hesitant. He reaches over to steal a peek and sighs, rushing his hands over his head as he leans back. “It’s him.”

Dick sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Brady growls. “you didn’t do this.”

&&&&&&

Donna waits for Dick’s voice to fade. “OK, move,” she says to Gar as he stretches his body out. “and put on some clothes,” she creeps across the landing and enters Angela’s room. “Time to move,”

Gar follows behind moments later, pulling at his clothes like they fit wrong, but she sees nothing wrong with it. “I ran out of clothes,” he gripes.

“Now the face makes sense,” Donna says, rounding the bed to kneel at Angela’s side. She pushes her finger through the handcuff, chaining Angela to the bed. “Damn keys for this thing are downstairs,”

“We have company,” Angela sings. “Finally. I was getting bored staring at these walls.”

“You decorated.” Donna quips.

“What do we do?” Gar asks.

“Leave her sorry, pale ass here,” Donna tuts, taking a moment to consider it seriously, before she pulls the puny metal apart, freeing Angela’s wrist, to Gar’s elation, and maybe fear. She wants to leave Angela to face whatever justice awaits her, if there’s such a charge for conspiracy to commit an apocalypse, because in this climate, she muses, there should be. But Dick’s right, until this is over, it’s prudent to keep her close for now. God, she hates when he’s right. “Grab her,” she says. “We’re going to slip out of this window,”

“I can’t fly,” Gar declares. “So, don’t ask.”

“I’m not going to ask,” Donna reassures him as he helps Angela scoot off the bed, while she slides the window up and climbs out onto the roof. Holding her arms out as Gar ushers Angela closer, she hauls her out without much care and waits for Gar. “OK,” she wraps her arm around Angela’s waist, steadying her, and glances at the teen. “Wait here,”

“Huh?” Gar asks.

Donna leaps off the roof with Angela in her arms and lands firmly on her feet, then she drops Angela to the floor and looks up at Gar. “Come on. I’ll catch you.”

Gar gulps. “Are you sure?” he asks. “Maybe I can fly.”

“Get your ass down here,” Donna glances over her shoulder, following his line of sight. “What is it? What do you see?” she sighs and walks back a couple of paces to run and launch herself into the air. She lands on the roof with a thud. “Let’s go,” she grabs him, and he points, and she looks. Up ahead, a hundred feet from them is a herd of uniforms making their way over and some have fire power.

Looking closer, and squinting, her heart sinks low in her chest when she sees. “Wait – that’s not,” her eyes widen. “that guy’s from two nights ago,” she points to the man heading the herd. “Me and Kory fought him,” she takes a breath as she realizes what’s happening, because, oh boy. “We fought all of them.”

&&&&&&

The cloak falls over the ship and Dawn finds herself hesitant to move, still speechless by its form, and shape, and energy, it’s existence. She picks up her pace when she turns, finding Kory nearing the warehouse doors, in a rush to leave.

Considering what she saw, she’s feeling more settled with Kory, knowing now, the reason she couldn’t make heads or tails of her was because she can’t make heads or tails of anything, especially herself. Kory’s ache settles in her own chest as she considers what it must feel like to have no identity, no sense of belonging, nothing solid to stand on. It makes sense now, the thing, the magnetism between she and Dick, or at least the foundation of it. Identity. They fit into the same puzzle, both are searching for a place to fit, looking for familiarity, home.

Throw in their recent trauma at the hands of Trigon and the heavy silences, whispers at night and longing stares make sense. There’s so much to be said, if Dick wasn’t so tongue tied, like he was back at the house before they left.

Dawn doesn’t know if she can fully trust Kory yet though, because a woman who doesn’t know herself can’t possibly know what she’s capable of, and she did nearly succeed in making Rachel non-existent. But if she’s to go on energy and her gut, all she’s feels and has felt from Kory since she met her is frantic (now alien) mama bear.

Kory stops a few inches from the truck and turns to Dawn. She opens her mouth, and swallows. "You and Dick,"

“It’s been done a long time,” Dawn offers, sensing her restlessness. “We have history, yes, but that’s all it is, and it’s all under the bridge,” she shrugs. “I’m his past.” She notes how Kory’s shoulders drop as she visibly sighs. “No drama,” she laughs.

Kory smiles. “Plenty drama to be had with this fucking demon,”

Dawn nods. “Kory,” she calls as she turns away. “Thank you,” she says. “for showing me this, for trusting me.”

Kory smiles. “I did it because I like your hair.”

“Oh,” Dawn breaks out laughing, and rolls her eyes. “You can stop lying now, yours is better,” she teases. “It pops,” she adds with a little shoulder hitch.

“Sings too,” Kory shrugs.

Dawn shakes her head, tickled at the thought. “I believe you.”

Kory flicks the keys into the air and Dawn catches them. “I got my ass kicked by a demon.”

“Well then,” Dawn says, walking around to the driver’s side. “I guess I better drive.”

As they climb into the truck, and Dawn turns the engine over, Kory drags her phone off the dash as it flashes and brings it to her ear. “voicemail,” she mutters. After a moment, her face contorts, and Dawn’s chest caves.

“What?”

“Our luck just ran out is what,” Kory says. “I need you to drive like you’re never going to see your action figure boyfriend again.”

Dawn shifts the gear all the way up and slams her boot down on the gas.

&&&&&&

Dick’s watching Brady’s every move; the way he rushes his dark hair back, presses down into his shoulders and plants his feet, breathing unevenly. “Brady are you okay?” he says to the man’s back. He felt something off from the moment he opened to the door, a restless energy beneath calm skin and cold smiles. His lack of interest in the damage to the house, the way he studied Dick’s gait and scoured the kitchen before entering the bathroom.

“It’s such a shame,” Brady says. “and a terrible waste,”

And the language. 

Dick clenches his fists and shuffles back, dodging Brady’s fist as he throws it back in a sudden attack. He slams his arm into the wall and knees him in the stomach and then punches him in the face, blocking a hit with both arms up as Brady’s free arm flies towards him. Brady rushes forward with a kick and Dick lifts his knee to block, then kicks him in on the inside of his thigh and punches him again.

But Brady recovers in record time, running forward and attacks with a barrage of punches, pushing him into the kitchen. Dick blocks, blocks, blocks, and one slips through, the knuckles grazing his ribs. He stumbles back with a hiss, clutching them and takes a painful deep breath. Brady advances, and Dick skips back into the kitchen, quickly scouring the room for something heavy enough to knock the Deputy out with it before he tires. His chest burns with effort but Brady gives him no time. 

His vision blots with colorful spots and Brady’s fist connects with his ribs again. He doubles over, his breath growing shaky, and Brady grabs his hair. Slipping his jacket from the floor, Dick grabs the arm, wrapping it, and spins under it, throwing his elbow into Brady's head, before hurtling him across the room. He races behind him, kicking him at the back of the knee, and then ties his hands around the man’s neck and drives his knee into his belly, once, twice, and again. Swinging him into the living room, he knees him again. Brady catches his next attempt, but Dick moves quick, stepping on his thigh and launching his body up and around his neck, dragging him to the floor. 

Brady rolls out of the clinch and throws a kick back into Dick’s stomach as he stands, throwing him over the sofa. 

Dick’s panting now, struggling to take a full breath, feeling heavier in his skin than he’s used to. Brady comes around with a smile on his face and reaches down to grab. Dick pulls his arm towards him, lifting his legs up and around Brady’s neck and ties them together. Brady struggles, trying to pull free, and Dick thrusts his hips up, breaking the arm. He clenches his thighs, strangling Brady’s scream.

Dick waits until Brady slumps and pushes him onto the floor before rolling away. He coughs. His body tired and throbbing, and with effort, climbs to his feet, bracketing his ribs. As he moves towards the front door, he hears Brady groaning and turns back, barely able to keep his fists up. Just then, light from Donna’s lasso lashes past him as Brady stands, wrapping itself around his neck and jerks him forward into the wall beside her.

“You okay?” Donna asks. 

He nods. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Donna yanks her lasso free. “Uniform here brought a party,” she crosses the room and dips under his arm, helping him out onto the porch as the herd inches closer.

A broken sigh escapes Dick’s lips, and he drops his shoulders. He doesn’t know if he can go anymore. Throw one more punch. Brady almost flattened him because, injured, he’s fighting sixty percent below his skill level.

“Now thank me,” Donna says as Jason and Hank come running, bowling into them. The tiger appears from the corner of the house, growling, and snapping his jaw as he leaps in too.

&&&&&&

Kory’s heart shrivels up in her red-hot chest at the thought of something bad happening to either Gar or Dick again, while she’s not there. She’s already sick of this shit. She is well and truly done. Everyone, and anyone on Trigon’s side can die, screw what Dick said, because if any of them are hurt, if there is even a scratch, she takes no responsibility for what comes next.

They haven’t even got Rachel back and trouble is knocking their door for the second time. 

Dawn slows down and Kory peeps the barricade of cruisers and spike strip laid across the street. “Go around, and step on it,” she growls.

Dawn slams her foot down, swerving into the lumpy dirt. She clips the end of the parked car, and the truck rocks, then she punches the gas, skidding back onto the road. 

Kory can feel the heat bubbling up under her skin, the pulse in her hands, in her chest, and she doesn’t wait for Dawn to pull up before she hauls herself out of the car.

&&&&&&

“Kory, wait,” Dawn calls, climbing out behind her. All she sees is a sea of black tactical suits and her friends among them. Jason tumbles down the porch steps as he’s kicked, and rolls to a stop, jumping back onto his feet. He shakes his head before darting right back up them with his fists in the air.

Hank catches bodies Donna sends like a football, flinging them over his shoulder. He runs at two at a time, slamming his forearms into their chests, and Donna whips the lasso at necks, ankles and torsos, throwing them like rag dolls.

She catches a glimpse of green and searches out the tiger among the black clearing a path for Dick, and she starts towards them, deciding to help him first.

“Dawn,” Hank shouts, and she turns, finding a gun pointed at her from a few feet away. Every moment seems to stretch out in front of her. Her heart drops into her stomach as he cocks it back and pulls the trigger. 

Donna sends the lasso hurtling through the air, snatching the gun from his grip, but the bullet releases, firing at her, and she can’t move, or breathe, or watch.

Dawn stumbles back as hears the impact, feeling herself when she doesn’t feel any pain. Maybe this new body of hers can withstand a bullet. She opens her eyes and finds Kory standing in front of her on fire. She swallows as the moisture dries from her mouth and watches as she disappears among the flames. 

And explodes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed my latest installment. In the next chapter, Rachel's not doing so well.


	6. Run Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel faces her wounds as Trigon takes her down memory lane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst incoming, but also, Rachel is coming into her own.

“Come on,” Rachel squeezes her eyes shut and pulls as hard as she can on the shackles around her wrists, binding her to the fancy radiator in the fancy room her dad stuffed her into hours earlier. She strains, scraping the metal against her skin and winces when it burns. Her heart thumps a new beat, a deep ache spreads across her chest because inside her head is silent. 

Ever since a child, she knew she wasn’t alone. She’d always felt the presence of the other her – the Raven, and she’d spent all those years being afraid of her, but now, trapped and alone, she’s more afraid of the silence. There’s no teasing, or goading, no invites to rescue her – just silence. “Please,” she growls against the burn, wiping her tears against her shoulder.

Since her father had shown her his new world, one that was on fire and in chaos, she hadn’t been able to sleep. Her mind buzzed with ideas and escape plans, but she couldn’t even free herself from the chain around her wrist, thinning her skin, turning it raw. Finally, she sighs and slumps against the metal frame, bringing her knees up to her chest and presses her forehead into them.

The sound of a big bang, an explosion, startles her and she flinches as another, bigger this time, follows, cutting the lights. She sits up as commotion ensues, trying to make out the sounds, the voices mingling together. “Help,” she screams. “I’m in here. Somebody help.”

The walls rattle and the floor vibrates beneath her, and then nothing. Silence. Rachel swallows, watching as the light under the door slowly disappears behind a shadow. She jumps as the door flies open, crashing into the wall behind it, splintered by a boot. Dick’s boot. “Dick,” she cries with relief, reaching out for him.

He runs to her and kneels, cupping her face. “Are you okay?”

She nods and tears spring to her eyes. Glancing up at Kory, stood at the door on guard, her heart squeezes tight. “Gar,”

“He’s coming,” Dick says with a smirk, trying to yank the chain free, and just then, Gar runs in and joins them. “Get this off,”

“Hurry up,” Kory growls, her palms burning bright with flames.

Gar pulls the chain apart with ease and watches it fall away. “Gorilla strength, I guess,” he chuckles with a shrug, and stands up as Dick ushers her to her feet.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Kory says, as Gar follows her out.

“Where is he?” she asks, though her stomach twists as she considers the answer.

“Kory took him out, her powers are growing,” he says. “but we have seconds, he’s already regenerating,” he pulls her arm around his shoulder and lifts her up, cupping the back of her knees. She buries her head in his shoulder as he carries her out of the room. They enter the foyer and she peeps the ashy corpses embedded in the carpet, scattered. “Don’t look,” he pants, gripping her tighter. “We’re almost there.”

She closes her eyes and burrows deeper into Dick’s shoulder, but then she feels the air change around them, and she can’t stop herself from glancing up. They’re moving through the long hallway towards the elevators. The doors open with a ping. Inside it is a black cloud filling the space with red eyes. Dick pauses and settles her on her feet, and she swallows, standing in front of him. “Stay away from them.”

“Is this what you think about?” Trigon’s disembodied voice asks.

Rachel turns to Dick, gasping when she sees black veins pouring down his face. “No,” she cries, and glances behind him to find Kory smiling with dark eyes too. “Gar,” she pleads as the tiger passes her to stand by the elevator door. The black cloud laughs, and she grips her head to block the sound. “Get out of my head,” she screams until her throat burns, until there is no air left in her lungs, until she – wakes up.

 

She sits up on the couch and roughs away the sweat collecting above her brows before turning her body, and setting her feet down. Her nose flares at the smell of coffee and she glances up to find her dad sat at the table facing her, his legs are crossed and he’s smiling over his cup. “Please, stop.”

Trigon smirks. “You think I’m doing this to you?” he shakes his head with a sigh and takes a long sip. “You’re doing this to yourself,” he turns his torso to the table and slips a plate of pastries off to hold out to her. “Hungry? It’s still warm. Vanilla and almond.”

Rachel shakes her head. “You were there. I felt you there – inside my head.”

“Oh, I was there,” he confesses with a smug grin. “just observing,” he palms his chest. “I promise, that was all you,” then he stands and crosses the short way, placing the plate in front of her on the glass table. “I mean, I don’t even look like that.”

Swallowing hard, she dares to tilt her head and look at him. “Then what do you look like?”

Trigon pins her with a glassy look. “When you’re ready,” he says, “I’ll show you.” And then he’s back in his chair, sipping on coffee. The distance is enough for her to relax her body against the couch, though she pulls herself closer into its corner, forcing every inch of space she can.

“What are you?” She asks.

“Your father,” he answers simply, taking another sip. Steam rises and dances above the cup as he places it down, and finds her eyes. “I go by many names, but it really depends on who you’re asking,”

“How long will I be staying here?”

He chuckles. “You forget you volunteered,” and picks up a slice of golden toast, crunching down on it. “You’re free to go whenever you wish,” he mumbles over a mouthful.

“You’re lying,” Rachel snarls.

“I want you free, Raven, not controlled,” Trigon says. “If I wanted something from you, I would’ve taken it already. I won’t keep you against your will.”

Rachel wants nothing more than to gather her coat and make a run for it, but she knows what she agreed to, she knows the promise she made to save her friends. He just wants to see her squirm, or cry, or beg, but she won’t do it, she won’t cower or plead. “If you let me go, then my friends get hurt.”

“We both made promises to each other,” Trigon says. “I kept mine.”

She clenches her fists. “I hate you.”

Trigon sighs heavily, flinging the toast aside, his appetite snatched away. “Do you hate your mother, too? She lied to you. Kept secrets.”

Rachel grinds her teeth, clenching her jaw tight.

“Do you even know which one I’m talking about?” he shrugs. “I can see why you’d be confused. Both betrayed you. Melissa,” Trigon rolls his eyes back as though he’s tasted the sweetest thing and makes a sound. “she was exquisite, powerful, fearless, - when she was young that is,”

“Don’t talk about her,” Rachel snarls.

“I knew her before you did, little one,” Trigon says. “Your mother, your _real_ mother, she met Melissa as a young girl, after we broke up actually.” He sighs. “I won her back, but Melissa, she almost turned your mother against me for good. She was so strong willed, tough, I think maybe she passed that one to you,” his eyes are faraway and glossy as he reminisces. “Angela was always a little more – delicate.”

Rachel’s chest aches. She’s realizing not only does she know next to nothing about Angela, she knows even less about Melissa, the one who raised her. She wonders if the woman who tried to protect her until her last breath did so out of love for her or duty to everyone else.

“She was immune to my charms,” Trigon continues pridefully. “Melissa,” he watches her, takes her in, and her stomach knots. “Do you miss her?”

Rachel crushes her teeth against each other as the pain rushes up, and swallows as many times as it takes to stow the tears away. Her mother had tucked her into bed every night until she was thirteen because she was afraid of the dark, she’d changed her sheets after a nightmare and prayed with her every night. She combed her hair after a bath, and every Saturday, they took turns skidding along the shopping aisles on their trolley. Sundays was movie night, Up for her and Castaway for her mom because the woman was obsessed with Tom Hanks. She was all Rachel had and she hadn’t thought of her since the day she was killed, shot in the head right in front of her.

Does she miss her? The question makes her queasy with rage. The sound the bullet made piercing through her flesh and bone, and brain is stored in her memory. The spec of warm blood on her face, her last words and the look in her eyes, the fear, not for herself but for her daughter who was going to be alone in the world, is stored in her memory. But she’s been running from those memories ever since she’d escaped the man who did it, because it was too painful, too vivid, too real, and it was her fault. Her entire body missed her, but she didn't deserve to.  
“Must have been horrific,” Trigon says. “I’m sorry you saw that,”

“You’re sorry?” Rachel chokes out, lifting her gaze to him. Her heart beats in her ears so loud she can barely hear him. The thump against her temples, her wrist, and the soles of her feet pump blood, hot as lava through her veins. “You did this.” Irresistible energy surges through her body and her breaths slow down, the grief quickly letting go as rage burns away its grip. Clenching her fists, she stands up and the doors burst open. Bee’s on the other side.

Trigon holds his hand up and the woman freezes at the door, but his eyes never leave hers. He wants this. But why? The question cools her down.

Rachel’s breathing hard now, as the anger slips away, escaping with her breaths. She sits back, her eyes hot on him, challenging him because she is not afraid of him, she hates him too much to be afraid. Hates what he’s going to do to the world, what he wants to and threatened to do to her friends, what he did to her mothers. She can’t let him stay. She won’t, but she needs to get inside his head.

Bee strides in and settles at the table, and only then does Trigon drop his eyes from her. She drops an envelope in his hand, and he glances up at Bee. Rachel senses excitement spike in the room.

“Did you get it?” He asks.

Bee’s smile fades. “It’s moved,” she says with a shaky breath. “But I found-,”

The lines in Trigon’s jaw sharpen and his steely blue eyes grow dark and wide when he stands, towering over her. “Where?”

“I’m trying to locate it now,” Bee sings.

He scoffs, making a circle around her, regarding her frame with derision. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be here – being in two places at once isn’t your charm,”

Rachel stands, taking small steps around the coffee table while her father, too busy scolding the help to notice her passing them. She takes another and another until her heel is pressed up against the door. She reaches behind her back and touches the gold steel handle.

“Asa?” Trigon inquires.

“Perhaps your gesture was too humble,” Bee offers.

Trigon smiles, and then reaches for her suddenly, pulling her face to his by her scruff. Around him, Rachel watches in horror as his shadow grows and breaks shape, leaving the room in darkness and the walls trembling under his voice when he bellows at her.

She flinches at the hideous sound as it pinches at her skin like shards of glass. Bee scurries away, cowering like a dog when he drops her to her knees, and then she sees red eyes, a flash of red eyes beneath his pale skin. She turns the doorknob and rips the door open, darting out into the hallway.

It slams behind her and she faces the narrow stretch to the elevator. She runs towards it, reaches out, but it stretches out in front of her, the elevator shifting back and out of her grasp.

Out of breath she stops right where she is, and takes a step back, and the hallway shrinks. So, she takes another step back, and another, and when she finally has her breath back and her heart has stopped thumping, the elevator stands right at her feet.

It pings as the doors open and she steps inside, turning to find Bee in the hallway growling, and dribbling and panting. She’s hunched over like an animal with shiny lust in her eyes, and her head tilted to the side, but she doesn’t move. Rachel breathes out when the doors close and pushes the last button, she can almost sense what Bee is, the smell and the shape leaving a lingering clue at the back of her mind.

Dick. Kory. Gar. She turns her thoughts to her friends – reaches out, and-

“Almost,” Trigon says.

Rachel turns to find him standing behind her, and she gasps, stumbling back into the mirror.

“Sleep,” he whispers.

And it all goes black.

 

Images flash in her mind like pictures on a TV screen. Mom. Angela. Dick. Gar. Kory. Angela. Mom. Gar. Kory. Dick. Angela. Deer. Adamson. Mirror. Kory. Gar. Mirror. Angela. KoryGarMirrorDickAngelaDeerMomAdamsonGarDickMirrorKoryAngelaMomDeerDeerDeerMirrorMirrorKoryDickMirrorAngelaMomAngelaMomAngelaMirrorAngelaMirrorMom—

 

Rachel springs forward on the sofa and settles back into the crook where she started. Trigon hurtles a bottle and she catches it in her lap, snatching the cap off, she chases the water down.

“These human contradictions are quite fascinating,” he says with a smile, “the night you left through the portal, with me, why did you do it?”

She pants, swallowing the rest of the water before she sets it down. “You know why,” she forces out, her voice scratchy.

“It wasn’t just to save your friends,” Trigon smiles, like he knows all her terrible secrets. “It was to _escape_ them, too.” He walks past the couch and stands where she assumes is now his favorite spot, in front of the window overlooking the skyline. “You left to escape the inevitability of hurting them,” he laughs, turning over his shoulder to look at her, frowning, like he’s really trying to understand. “But now you’re apart from them you want to fight your way back.”

“I left so you’d leave them alone,” Rachel growls.

“Everybody I get close to,” Trigon mimics her broken voice. “If they stay around me long enough, they get hurt.”

“Stop it,” Rachel cries, horror-stricken.

“There’s something inside me,” he continues.

“Dad,” she says, and his face softens.

“You’re only lying to yourself,” Trigon says. “I’ve seen it remember,” he taps his temple. “I’ve taken a look inside your head.” He clasps his hands behind his back. “You left to protect yourself, after all, everyone leaves you eventually. Angela did, then your mother,” he smiles, “then Angela again. Dick twice, and-,”

"What are you trying to prove?" Rachel whispers.

“You never answered my question,” Trigon says. “Do you miss your mother. Melissa, the one who raised you – tucked you in bed, combed your hair, watched movies with you, or did you forget about her as soon as you met Angela?”

Rachel slams her fist against the table, and it cracks under the pressure. She flexes her fingers and gulps hard as the forceful and wild power growing inside her simmers under her skin. There is no escape, not from Trigon, and not from this feeling sinking deep into her. This power and strength pulling her under, into the shadows. There’s no escape from herself, but if there’s no escape, what’s the next choice?

“You don’t have to deny yourself the pleasure of destroying something if it’s in your way,” he walks around the sofa and slams his fist against the crack, and the table collapses into pieces. 

Sobered, she leans back, staring at the mess at her feet. “Yes,” she relents. “I miss her – so much.” And the ache is back, but it’s the only thing keeping her tethered to herself, to her humanness. “My mom, my _real_ mom is Melissa. She held a wet cloth to my head when I had a fever and she climbed into bed with me when I had a bad dream. She’s my mom, not Angela. Angela’s just a slave.”

“A slave?” he says, “Your mother is loyal. Loyalty is a special thing to have. Do you want to know what makes you special, Raven? Your resistance,” he says. “it’s so human. I’m deeply impressed, but it robs you of power. Power you sourced so easily from me to save Dick.” 

“I don’t want anything from you,”

He sits beside her. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me, don't you understand, I came back for you,”

“Then why don’t we go back to wherever you came from?”

“Would that make you happy?”

She sighs.

“You think everyone around you dies, and if that’s true, if you really believe that, then escaping me won’t change that. Earlier, I said you had no intentions of ever seeing your friends again,” he smiles, “but maybe that was the other you, the one you keep buried under teenage memories and foolish childlike fantasies of being normal.” Hesitantly, he reaches out and cups her shoulder. “My point is, I will never die, and I won’t ever leave you, unlike everyone else in your short life, so think on that the next time you try to run.”

But she hadn't tried to run, only expose him. And now it occurs to her that maybe, deep down beneath the fake smiles and long winded speeches, there is a weakness in him after all, and maybe that weakness is her. The desire to have a daughter. To have someone beside him because being powerful must be lonely. And this unmatched power makes him feel untouchable, like a god, and maybe that gives her something she can use against him. Himself. 

 

After dinner, (which she pushed around the plate) she accepts the room he offered her two nights ago and closes the door behind her, making no effort to turn the lock quietly. He knows what he knows, and he hears what he hears, and there is only so much she can hide. But what she can do is turn her mind into a safe.

She quickly realizes the beautiful gift in being stuck in a car with Kory, listening to Disco music during their mini road trip. Because now, thanks to her, there’s a playlist running a loop in her head, blocking him from her inner thoughts.

“Go on now go,” she mumble-sings, “Walk out the door, just turn around now ‘cause you’re not welcome anymore. Weren’t you the one who tried to break me with goodbye, you think I’d crumble, you think I’d lay down and die, oh blah, blah blah, I will survive, as long as I know how to love I know I’ll stay alive.”

She repeats the lyrics until they’re thoughts in her head, creating a fence around her mind, and it gives her the privacy to de-tangle what she saw after the elevator. Her diversion had worked better than she thought it would, she had convinced him she wanted to escape so that he’d inevitably use his mind tricks, same as when he used her thoughts to manipulate her dreams. But all he’d shown her was that once he was inside her head, she was also in his, and the images she saw in the elevator of everyone, of the mirror and the deer weren’t hers.

Everything she’d seen and done was creating a map inside his head, putting together a puzzle that probably has something to do with the seals he talked about. So, she decides, she'll play along until she figures out what and where the seals are, and find a way to tell the others so they can find it before he does.

But first, she needs to practice, and now she knows she can draw power from him because he told her she had before. She knows it's a risk because she could make Raven stronger than her, but it's one she has to take for the safety of everyone else.

Rachel sits on the bed and focuses on Gar, their friendship, their bond, and a memory pools in her chest. The night they took a taxi to the asylum together, its warm power surges in her, and she opens her hands, palms up. Purple light sparks from them, flickering, teasing to open up a portal.

She's going to need an escape plan when the time comes and what quicker way to travel than through a hole in space and time. 

The tiny hole stretches and snaps, and it almost opens. And for now, Rachel decides, almost is enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Powers incoming, but also, risk of empowering Raven to overpower Rachel.
> 
> Next: Not Until Her Heart Breaks - The demon himself, Trigon's POV.
> 
> Omg, the trailer! I'm excited and worried, and happy and paranoid. Will we get the GAR story we deserve? Yes, Kory's royal history/story line is coming to light. Dick has Nightwing hair! Rachel has the gem. I love allllll of them, but my quartet heroes first. TOMORROW! IT'S HAPPENING!


	7. Not Until Her Heart Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigon has glorious plans for his daughter, and the mortal world and Angela observes the cracks, old and new between the scrambling group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I give you, Trigon the great narcissist, and Angela the loyalist? 
> 
> Titans are back bitches! It was a rushed, and messy episode, but it ended strong, so I'm v excited! :)

How is it, Trigon wonders, that the screams of his naysayers have the same effect on him as the rare and wondrous, mortal sound of a John Coltrane track, melodious and transcendent. Their insides turned to liquid at a click of his fingers, their eyeballs melted into their skulls, seeping from their orifices, the way a song travels through him, only less painful. How is it, he wonders, Rachel believes all she can do is spit black matter and turn blue in the face. Maybe that one is obvious though, raised and hidden by Melissa, taught to fear it and fight it. But he wonders how it is, that she doesn’t realize every time she thinks she’s resisting the Raven; she’s really, only making her stronger. 

He steps out of a portal and he’s back in the suite, dusting bone ash from his hands and suit. He watches the door Rachel sleeps behind, or pretends to, and listens to the steady thrum of her fragile heart, such a wasteful organ, and bringing her so much suffering. How is it, such a small and inconsequential (biologically) muscle in her chest can control her, and lead her away from him, away from herself? It’s something he truly cannot fathom, and certainly cannot allow to continue.

Bee makes herself known behind him, slurping meat from bone, then crunching bone down to the marrow and slurping that, too. “She hasn’t made a sound,”

Trigon smiles. He hears music coming from her room, a disco song filling his head when he peeps. His smile grows bigger, and proud, she’s blocking him from her thoughts, already she is learning. 

“I don’t appreciate being demoted to babysitter,” Bee spits.

His smile stretches wide and cold, and his eyes bleed clear. “I don’t appreciate the tone.” Straightening his shoulders, satisfied her attitude has been corrected when she hunches over her leftovers, he sighs. “I wouldn’t leave you to babysit a corpse,”

Bee stands. “Then why did you leave me here?”

“The same reason I left Raven here, right now, you’re useless to me.” Trigon says. “I took care of the organization myself; I prefer a clean house.”

“We still have a problem.” Bee says. “We can’t break the last seal until we have it, and we don’t have it. The Raven,” she snorts, “isn’t a Raven at all, and Asa remains in the shadows instead of by your side.”

Chuckling at the puny demon, he turns to the window, overlooking the skyline. She has no sense of self-preservation and it’s what he likes most about her. “I am the future, bub, this world waits on me and I shall deliver unto them, a new beginning.”

“You know where the seal is?” She questions.

He opens his palm, glancing at remnants of dust and rubs his fingers together. “This seal is very special, it’s the most important one, do you think I would lose sight of it,” he glances over his shoulder. “that I’d let anyone, or thing lose it?”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Bee asks impatiently. 

Trigon glances over at Rachel’s door and turns back to the window. The night has come in and lights from the buildings blink like stars, washing over the river below. He peers out into the mortal world through human eyes, limited eyes. The scope of their vision is tunneled, the colors soft and bright, ridges smooth and distance short. How beautiful the lie the mortal’s lives, all is well as far as the eye can see, but their existence is limited. They’ve been lied to from the moment they exited their mothers’ bodies, their senses limited, purpose primitive and their insatiable needs unsatisfied. 

Such simple beings, running wild like animals, surely, they were made for this; to be ruled, subjugated, led. Humanity without choice, without the burden of freedom was freedom itself. He was going to end their scramble for power and bring them to their knees, and they were going to bow with gratitude. They will bow down or they will burn with the world, their flesh washed away by fire, and their rebellion turned to ash. 

The feral beings whisper about him in their churches, homes and make TV villain out of him, all the while bringing on the apocalypse themselves. They fear him. They fear each other, but they should’ve been fearing themselves. But soon Raven will be ready to take her place at his side and together they will burn down all hatreds and the mortals will come together once more, for one cause, to serve him. Obey him.

“We are waiting for a seed to grow,” Trigon says, finally.

“It’s taken too long already for your little seed to grow up,” Bee says, smacking her lips together. “She’s grown attached to the humans.”

“If you want a fruit to grow, you must first plant many seeds, bub.” Trigon smiles. “The one I planted in Raven has already taken hold.”

“Then what seed are you talking about?” Bee asks.

“I have been inside the minds of the ones she cares about. The ones who believe, naively, that they can save her. I have seen their worst fears, deepest regrets,” he inhales with his eyes closed and breathes out, slowly opening them again. “They are barely together, held at the seams, but I know their futures because I have seen their pasts. All it would take to unravel them is a gently tug,” he makes a soft motion like plucking a fruit from thin air. 

“Angela,” Bee deduces.

“I didn’t leave her behind because her job is done,” Trigon says with a smug grin. “Her work has just begun.”

“But what if she turns against you,” Bee cries. “She has before. And the last time she had her arm. Angela may have brought the Raven into the world, but she is still human, like the rest of them.”

“Her loyalty is mine,” Trigon says. “I have something she wants more than anything in the world.”

“More than her own demon offspring?”

“More than _anything_ ,” Trigon echoes.

“And the seed in Raven,” Bee says. “when will that bear fruit?”

Trigon turns to face Bee with his arms laced behind his back. “Do you know, in the mortal world, there is such a thing as broken heart syndrome?” he flickers a smile at her. 

“Raven’s a demon, like us, we don’t possess them. How would you break a demon-,”

“Not a demon's, bub,” Trigon shakes his head. “A child's heart.”

Bee raises her brow. “How do you break a child’s heart? Eat it?”

He walks slowly towards her, closing the distance between them. Rachel’s heart still beats steady in his ears, music still plays around her thoughts like a merry go round and meanwhile his black seed grows roots. “You take the thing that matters most to them,” he makes a fist. “and you crush it.”

Bee’s smile is wicked. “Angela is the fist.”

“Angela is the _seed_.” Trigon corrects. “I am the fist.” He broadens his shoulders. “Raven wishes to be human like them. She pines for them. Their guardianship. Their love.” He clenches his jaw, and his nose flares. “This mortal world has become a disease, and I intend to cure her of it.”

&&&&&&

Angela watches from the window as Donna rushes from the front desk, flinging the motel room key into the air for Dawn to catch. She’s trapped in Hank’s truck, but over her shoulder, she can see Dick pulling Kory’s limp body from Donna’s, into his arms while Gar and Jason stay on the lookout. She snickers, the boy doesn’t exactly look inconspicuous with a cape around his shoulders. It’s almost as if he fears he’ll forget _he’s_ Robin if he takes it off, and she wonders if he’s wearing it so Dick doesn’t forget either.

“In here,” Dawn says, pushing the green door open, making way for Dick as he carries her in. 

Angela can still feel the heat of Kory’s blast all around her, the hairs on her arm are still rigid, her skin still warm, and the smell, it lingers in her nose and throat. Kory took a bullet for Dawn, and then blasted each uniform in front of her. It was a sight to see, and her body hair stood in excitement. It was beautiful. Mesmerizing. She was breath-taking. It was a show she did not want to end, but did, and as soon as the last man fell to his knees, so did she.

Regrettably, she’d left them alive as far Angela could see, second- and third-degree burns, but alive. Dawn had fallen to her knees trying to catch her, and it was Hank who lifted her and carried her to Donna’s truck with Dick and Gar on his heels.

Angela doesn’t realize she’s leaning on the door until Hank rips it open and she almost falls out. She winces, glaring up at his banged up face when he grips her tight, glancing around before he drags her across the lot and into the motel room with everyone else. He kicks the door shut behind them and slams her into the lounge chair in the corner of the room that faces the bed Kory now lies in. “Don’t move,” he growls.

She flashes him a grin and turns her attention back to the gang. Dawn sits Hank at the edge of the other single and rummages through her holdall, emptying it of its contents until she finds gauze, safety pins and other shit to clean him up with. His left eye is bloody, and so is his nose, and as he shrugs out of his jacket, it becomes obvious as he bares his teeth that injury hides beneath his shirt, too.

"Hey," Dick crouches beside the bed and gently taps Kory's face. “Kory,” he whispers. “wake up.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Gar asks, his voice shaky, as he sits next to her. Dick doesn’t answer. “Dick. Dick-,” he says with more emergency, and Dick looks up at the boy, like he’s hearing him for the first time.

“Yes,” he clenches his jaw. “Alright. I promise.”

“Hey,” Jason almost vibrates, he’s so excited. “Your girlfriend’s a badass,” and Dick glares, “she’s going to be okay, though, right,” he adds. “I mean, you said she would-,”

“Kid,” Hank starts. “Shut up,”

“I take it, from the sheer panic,” Dawn says, “She’s never done that before,”

“No,” Gar answers, flinching from the heat when he touches her arm. “Dick, she’s burning up, what do we do?”

“Uh,” Dick stands up, and rakes a hand through his hair. “Donna see how many towels are in the bathroom and soak them. Jason, Gar, go find as much ice as you can, we’re going to fill the bathtub.”

Donna is up before he can finish his sentence, and Jason is heading to the door, but Gar hesitates. “No,” he says. “I want to stay,”

The boy is traumatized, a blind person could see it. It’s all getting to be a bit much, and she can’t blame him, after all, she’d warned him, and it turned out she was right. His glance in her direction every few seconds was confirmation.

“Hey,” Dick’s voice calls Gar back to him. “It’s okay. You’ll just be a second.”

Gar gives a fraction of a nod and follows Jason out of the room, his eyes flickering up at her one last time before he pulls the door shut. Donna emerges with three drenched towels and she and Dick work on wrapping Kory in them.

Angela studies Dick, how his heart hammers at his throat and sweat collects along his hairline. He looks grief stricken, from the moment Kory went down, it was as though he’d forgotten his own bruises, and probably would’ve carried to the truck too, if Hank hadn’t beaten him to the punch. There was a small tremble in his hand, almost invisible if you weren’t watching closely, and his jaw was tight, his lips pressed together as he exerted effort, trying to contain a panic she could see practically vibrating under his skin.

“You okay?” Donna asks, and he nods. So, she isn’t the only one who noticed, but Dawn’s voice buts in before he can answer.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Her eyes don’t leave Hank’s eyebrow as she finishes cleaning it up and presses a clean gauze to it.

“I have no idea what we’re doing, we’re just trying to cool her down or whatever,” Donna answers, because it seems, Dick can’t. He’s too busy squeezing up and down her arm, wringing the towel over her skin.

“Maybe she’s dead,” Angela offers, and they all glare at her, and Gar is in the doorway, horror etched on his young face.

“What?” He cries, balancing several bags of ice in his arms, as Jason juggles several more.

“She’s not dead,” Dick growls. “Fill the tub, she’s going to be fine.”

“Dying then,” Angela adds, smirking when Gar shivers at her words, hurrying into the bathroom with Jason behind.

“Hey lady, I suggest you shut up, too,” Hank warns, shrugging back into his jacket. 

“Unless you want take a nap in trunk,” Donna adds.

Dick swallows hard, and leans close, examining Kory closely, his eyes travelling the curves of her face. “Kory,” he says.

“What’s our next step?” Hank stands, “cause I hate to state the obvious, but we can’t say here. We’re not even fifteen miles outside Dayton.”

Dick stands, turning to them. “There is no next step,” he says. “not until Kory wakes up.”

“I mean that's reasonable, she waited around for you-,” Angela offers, watching between the two men. "But what if she doesn't-,"

Donna glares. “Can I punch her now?”

“She just overexerted herself,” Dick stresses. 

“We need to think here,” Dawn says. “if she wakes up in an hour, or a day, or two days – what do we do next? We need to lay low, and figure out Trigon's play.”

Gar emerges from the bathroom and moves to Kory’s side, nudging Donna a little as he does. “Sorry,” he mutters. “What exactly is this doing?”

“Hopefully,” Donna sings. “cooling her down.”

“We need to be on the road, putting distance between us and those chargrilled fuck-bags,” Hank continues, an angry red molting his neck.

“I said we’re not going anywhere until she wakes up,” Dick snarls, and Donna rolls her eyes as Hank takes a step closer and Dawn reaches for his arm.

“You’re not in charge anymore, _Dick_ ,” Hank goads.

“If Dawn were lying here, you would want to make sure-,” 

“She _was_ lying there, asshole,” Hank shouts. “Or did you forget already?” he shakes his head. “Convenient, since it was your fucking fault.”

“Hank, stop.” Dawn says, standing between them.

Dick swallows. “I'm sorry. I didn’t mean-, of course I didn’t forget.”

“Sorry?” Hank spits. “Fuck you, Dick.”

“You want to hit me, Hank,” Dick tilts his chin up. “Do it,” he snarls. “Do it, cause I’m tired of your bullshit. You don’t like me, fine, you’re not fun to be around either, but we have more important shit to deal with.” He opens his arms. “so, the way I see it, you have two options,”

Donna shifts off the bed and circles it, standing at Dick’s shoulder. “We don’t have time for this, kids.”

“Donna right,” Dawn adds. 

Hank steps a toe in front of Dawn, his chest almost bumping against Dick’s. “Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

“Leave us here, watch the world burn from your living room window,” Dick warns. “Or get over this between you and me,”

Hank breathes hard and fast, his face and neck reddened and his jaw rock hard. “There’s a third option. I could punch you in your stupid face.”

“Hank,” Dawn holds his elbow and looks up at him. “She saved my life back there. We’re exposed and it’s not ideal, but we can wait a little while longer, just a little, to make sure she's going to be okay,”

Hank swallows. His shoulders drop, his face softening when he looks down at Kory. “Fine,” he says. “Fine, we wait, because we owe _her_.” glaring at Dick, he adds. “But we don’t owe you a fucking a thing, you understand me?” he stalks over to the door. “I need some air,” and it slams behind him. 

“Oof,” Angela cries. “He really hates you.”

Donna crosses the room, snatching a wet towel from the bed and stuffs it into Angela’s mouth. “If you take this out,” she warns with a smile. “I throw you out of the damn window.”

Dick rubs his tired eyes, and glances down at Kory, and then he starts pacing.

“Hank has a point,” Dawn starts. “I know you’re worried about her, we all are, but we may have to take her like this, keep an eye while we’re on the road-,”

“No,” Dick asserts. 

“Dick,” Donna pleads. “Hank’s a hothead, it’s old news at this point, but he’s not wrong. We need to get as far away from here as we can, and we need to do it now,”

“And go where, Donna?” Dick asks, desperation weighing in his voice. “Another motel. My apartment? Yours?” 

Jason leans around the door. “Tubs full.” He shrugs. "-ish," 

Dick’s attention snaps to the bed as Kory stirs, and he rushes to her side. “Kory,” his voice breaks a little, and he crouches beside her, sighing with relief. “are you okay?”

He reaches over the bed, gently brushing back her curls, like he's forgotten they’re not in the room alone, because when he remembers, he snaps his hand back, instead placing it behind her to help her sit up.

“What happened?” Kory glances around the room, pressing her hand against her head.

“You saved me,” Dawn says.

“We thought you were-,” Gar drops his gaze when she looks at him, confused.

“Hey,” she watches him fight back tears and grabs his hand. “I’m okay. I just – I don’t what happened, this power just – surged through me. Took over.”

“We think you used too much at once,” Donna shares.

“You’re getting stronger,” Dick offers a small smile, masking his fear. Poorly, if anyone bothered to ask her.

“How do you feel?” Dawn asks. “Can you move – can you stand?”

“I think so,” Kory moves off the bed slowly, and with Dick’s hand for support as he helps her onto her feet. “Where are we?”

“Bout ten miles outside of Dayton,” Jason says. “I’m surprised we can’t hear sirens,”

“We should move,” Kory says. “Now.”

“We have nowhere to go,” Gar says.

“How about one of the safe houses,” Jason suggests. “There’s one in San Fran, Bruce says it’s all yours, long as you need it.”

“You told Bruce?” Dick asks incredulously. 

“A demon comes out of another fucking dimension and you don’t?” Jason argues. “He wants to help, you know, and your girl’s going to need a real bed. Real food, after that sonic boom.” He glances down. “But he has one condition – he wants to see you. In person.”

Dick sighs.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Donna adds.

Dick glances at Kory, and sighs, turning to Jason. “Give me the co-ordinates.”

“Sweet.” Jason sings, freeing his phone from his boot.

Gar glances at Angela and she smiles. She’s caught every frightened glance he slipped her way, with his glassy eyes and red nose. She can almost see his thoughts running rings around him. He’s wondering if she was right, and if she was, what it means for him, if his fate is sealed.

&&&&&&

She watches by the door as Jason, Gar and Kory leave for Donna’s truck. They decided to split up and take different routes to the safe house to make sure there’s no tails. The fresh air seems to have done Hank good, because he’s got a little color back in his cheeks, but she sees it now, how fraught with tension he and Dick’s relationship is. It’s fraying at the seams, and with Dawn in the middle, right where she shouldn’t be, in Hank’s sweet spot, where’s he's insecure and raw with pain. She wonders why, why Dawn doesn’t definitively stand at his side, instead of between them. 

Angela groans as Donna’s grip on her arm tightens, but with a washcloth now turned into a gag, it’s all she has in way of a response. 

Jason is the first to climb in the back while Dick transfers some of their bags to Donna’s truck, but Kory stills, noticing Gar’s movements to the truck are slow and hesitant. 

“Are you okay?” She dips her head low and draws his eyes up to her.

He nods, burying his hands in his pockets.

“OK,” she steps back. “Then we should go. Get in.”

“You can’t do that again,” Gar blurts, and she turns back to him, her brows questioning. “I don’t – I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

Kory cups his shoulder. “Nothing bad is going to happen to me. I promise.”

“You can’t promise,” Gar shrugs. “Dick promised, and he almost,” he swallows. “and Rachel’s gone, so,”

“Look at me, Gar,” Kory says, and he does. “I’m okay, but I promise I’m going to be more careful. I just exhausted myself, that’s all. You don’t have to worry about me,” she smiles. “I should be worrying about you.”

“Maybe we can worry about each other,” Gar smiles lopsidedly.

Kory huffs out a laugh. “OK,” she says. “You need a hug?” she teases.

He chuckles, giving a nonchalant shrug. “Nah. M’good.”

“OK, well, maybe I do,” Kory pulls him into an embrace, and he immediately reciprocates, tucking his arms under hers briefly, before peeling away.

“Kory,” he says, pulling the truck door open. “There’s something I need to tell you – when we get to the safe house.”

“OK,” Kory says. “We’ll talk. That I can promise.” She closes the door once he’s inside and breathes deeply. 

Dick hands a piece of paper to Hank. “Co-ordinates,” he says, glancing at Angela. The whispers and passing notes like school children is for her benefit, she knows, but she doesn’t care where they’re going, she doesn’t need to know because she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.

“Got it,” Hanks says, deadpan.

“See you soon, I guess,” Dick nods at Dawn and hugs Donna, and then he makes his way over to her truck where Kory stands waiting for him. “All good?” he asks, gently brushing his hand against hers as he passes.

“Yeah,” she says, climbing in as he rounds the bonnet.

Donna says something about snacks for the road as they pull away, and Hank excuses himself, ignoring Dawn’s attempts to explain herself, to go wait for them in the truck, taking Angela with him. 

She wasn’t sure at first, when Trigon whispered things in her ear about them, but now she knows she should’ve have never doubted him. She was in Gar’s head already, and watching Jason, circle Dick like a bright-eyed boy, wanting nothing more than to prove himself to the first Robin, he was going to be just as easy. What she didn’t account for, was the cracks expanding between he and Hank, and Hank and Dawn, cracks that may be big enough to wriggle into. 

But mostly, what took her by surprise, was Kory’s blackout, emotionally compromising Dick. Staying at her bedside while trying to conceal how frantic he was underneath, followed by the visible relief spreading through his tense body when she woke up. 

It leaves her wondering if Dick Grayson is falling in love, and if he is, how she can use it to break him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this one! The plot side of things is about go up a notch in the next few chapters.
> 
> Next: Safe house shenanigans and the tower, minus the T. Also...


	8. New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive at the tower, and Dick has a promise to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait to watch the episode tonight. I promised myself, I'd edit this first, right after work (because I'm away for the weekend) and now I get to watch it as a reward. Looking forward to seeing my girl, Kory.
> 
> A little shorter than usual? But hopefully, still entertaining. Have a great weekend, lovelies. xxx

Donna clears her throat in the silence. The ride in the elevator is awkward to say the least, because no one wanted to stay behind and wait for the next. But they discovered, only upon filling the metal box, that it was a little snug. The only delight Donna got was watching Angel get inched further in until she was pressed against the crevice of the wall. 

She rolls her eyes, Jason seems to be the only one who’s okay with this game of 'twister but in a box' set up with his chin high and his lips curved into a smile, while Hank’s stinking attitude somehow makes space around him. Dawn seems to be on the outside of it. She swallows, they make a great team and a better couple, but something feels off, cracked, and she doesn’t like it.

Dick and Kory are a toe in front of her and Gar a toe in front of them. She can’t see the boy’s face, but she doesn’t have to, to know he’s had a rough go of it lately, and he’s wearing it like the jacket he’s in. She can relate, because she’s been anxious ever since Jason mentioned the tower. A restless energy sank into her skin and she hasn't been able to shake it, no matter how hard she's tried.

She glances at Dick leaning against the wall and her eyes drop to his hand as he ghosts his fingers along Kory’s. Oh. She knew. He didn’t deny they were sleeping together, and he basically confessed about what happened in his dream; how he snapped, and why he snapped, but now she is wondering how she’d not seen this before. Really, seen it.

She’d heard it in his voice, the moment he defended her attack on Rachel (which, in hindsight, fair) and he talked about Trigon hurting her, but now it’s obvious, like glaringly obvious. Glancing at him again, discreetly, she realizes he _looks_ different – has since he woke up. His eyes are clear, and he moves lighter on his feet, like a weight has been lifted. His shoulders are soft and his skin’s a litter brighter, too.

It's more than sexual chemistry; she saw that in the motel when Dick failed miserably in showing restraint and hiding his panic. She understood that, Bruce had murdered her in a nightmare, but the way his fingers ghosted hers, seemingly, unconscious, was - needy? Like, a need for touch, her skin a pleasure on his, and he wasn’t even looking at her, or her him, it was all unspoken. She knew what those feelings looked like, what in-like turning into something deeper looked like, felt like, because she’d been there. 

Her friend – brother was falling, and he didn’t even know it. “Oh, boy,” she mutters.

The doors ping open and she chuckles at the audible and shared sigh of her friends as they pile out. It isn't exactly how she remembers, but on second thought, it may be because she doesn't want to remember at all.

“Sweet,” Gar laughs, “is this permanent?” he gives Dick a sheepish look.

Dick pushes his hands into his pockets. “For now,”

“Not for us,” Hank says. “Dawn and I already got our retirement spot picked out,”

Dawn smiles, leaning her head against his shoulder, and he lets her. “Soon as this is over with,”

Dick nods. “I’m happy for you – both of you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” Donna broods. “I’m the selfish one who’s going to miss you both,”

Dawn chuckles, pulling Donna into an embrace. “You’re welcome to come visit, you all are, any time.”

“Go pick a room,” Dick nudges Gar and the boy’s face lights up.

“Any room?” he asks, adulated. 

Dick nods with a light chuckle. “They’re mostly,” he calls after Gar as he and Jason take off down the hall in a race. “the same,” he sighs, turning to Donna. “What’s about you, are you staying?” gosh, why does he have to look like a puppy when he’s asking?

“for now,” Donna shrugs. “this may have worked once a upon a time, but I’m a grownup who needs space, my own space, and anyway,” she swallows, “too many memories.” and he nods, he gets it. Sobering, she hitches her head down the hall. “What about Jason?”

“I don’t know,” Dick says, and it doesn’t go unnoticed when he looks at Kory but doesn’t ask.

Gar comes running back, “You have a training room?” he grabs Kory by the wrist. “come on,” and the others follow, Donna too, reluctantly, because she doesn’t need more reminders of why they left in the first place. She’s filled with ghosts as they enter and she glances at the beam, and the rings, and the weapons. Memories flood her, and she clears her throat, to fight back the well of emotions rising to the surface.

“Impressive,” Kory says. “I guess this is where we’re training,”

Donna rolls her eyes when Jason picks up the nunchakus and starts flinging it around his body, flipping it into the air and swapping hands.

“Hey, kid, watch where you’re swinging that thing,” Hank warns.

“I know what I’m doing,” Jason bites back. “Need a lesson?”

"This Robin is driving me nuts." Hank growls.

Dick’s voice is low when he pulls Kory to the side, but her ears perk up anyway. “are you sure you’re up to this?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” Kory reassures. “I feel fine now. Good actually.”

“I take it no one else needs a tour,” Dick says rhetorically, as he pulls Kory out of the room.

“Yeah, no one wants the Dick tour,” Hank shouts after them, and Dawn covers her face, shaking her head.

Donna watches them leave, and smiles. She doesn’t even know why she’s smiling; it just feels good to see him smiling, she guesses. Turning back to the others, she catches Dawn staring off into the distance, and dips her head low to find her eyes. “you okay?” she asks, and Dawn smiles that solemn smile that almost always means, she’s not fine, but she nods and pretends to believe her. “Someone want uncuff Angela from the elevator thingy?”

&&&&&&

Dick pulls Kory into the first room he sees, ignoring Gar’s backpack on the bed and presses her against the door. He leans into her neck, leaving open mouthed kisses there, while his hand travels along her waist and up her back.

“Dick,” Kory whispers in his hair, before he leans back, capturing her mouth. This is all he wants, to feel her close, and warm and real. “Dick,” she mumbles, “wait,” and her hands move to his chest. “Can we – stop for a minute, and just talk this time?”

Dick frowns, but a small smile lingers. “What?”

Kory shrugs, and pushes off the door, moving away from him, and he goes cold. “Let’s pretend we’re normal and actually open up to each other for once,”

Dick swallows hard. He knew this was coming, it was only a matter of time, but he didn’t expect it so soon. After Trigon, he collapsed, and after that she collapsed, and things had been moving at a pace too unpredictable to sit her down and talk.

“Tell me what’s in your head?” Kory asks, pulling her ring off to push it on again. “What is Dick Grayson feeling right now, in this moment?”

“Kory,” he sighs, shifting on his feet. “can we not do this now?”

She blinks at him, her face a picture of calm. “When would you like to do it?” and he can’t answer that because he doesn’t know if he ever wants to talk or think about it ever again. “Do you want to keep doing this instead?” she waves to the space between them, and something flashes in her eyes, a deep sadness that gives him pause. “Not us, _this_ ,” she sighs. “falling into bed every time one of us almost dies,” and his chest loses air. “or do you want to talk about it, _with me_?”

Dick sighs heavily. He hadn’t realized that that’s what they were doing, but maybe it was. He liked touch more than talking, he was better at it, but he hadn’t seen it turning into a replacement for everything else. Still, he had no real defence, because he owed her a conversation, about the dream, about Bruce, about them. “Kory-,”

Kory closes the distance between them. “Tell me what you saw in that dream -,” and he can’t muster the words. “was I in it?”

He looks up at her and the confusion clears from her face, and now he’s thinking about it again. Kory lying at his feet with damp hair and frozen eyes, it’s enough to make him shiver, to think of her like that, to think seeing her that way is what made him do what he did to Bruce. “I have to go do something, first.”

“What?” Kory crosses her arms.

“Bruce. We need to talk,” Dick says. “And I said I’d go see him.”

“OK,” Kory acquiesces, glancing down at her feet, and he feels a pang of guilt spread across his chest.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay with training-,”

“Dick, we’ll survive a day without you,” she looks up at him. “go,” she says. “and come back,”

Dick smiles, and nods. “When I get back-,” he wants to promise they’ll talk then, but he’s already broken so many. He pulls the door open and steps out, pausing with her at his heel when he finds everyone coming up the hallway from the training room.

Jason smirks. “Sup?”

“Not my room,” Gar mutters.

“Nothing like that,” Dick clears his throat and heads past them to the kitchen, relieved when they follow. “We’re going to need all the help we can get tracking Trigon down, if the attack back in Ohio proves anything, it’s that he has followers everywhere, in everyday people.”

Gar huffs and his eyes trail the floor. “Where are you going this time?”

Dick dips his head, searching out Gar’s eyes, and offers a smile when he finds it. “Gotham, to see an old friend and mentor. But I’ll be back.” He sees the boy swallow, and slump in his shoulders. 

“I could come with you,” Gar offers, his eyes sparking with light.

“No,” Dick shakes his head, and pushes his hands into his pockets. “You need to train. You all do.”

“So, you’re leaving me and Kory, again?” Gar questions, shaking his head with incredulity.

“No, Gar,” Dick stresses, glancing in Kory’s direction, and he’s grateful when she moves to his side. “that’s not what this is,”

“Maybe let him tag along this once,” she says over his shoulder.

Dick sighs. “If I take him, keeping Jason here will be impossible,”

“So, take both,” Kory says. “Hank could probably use the break,” she points with her chin at Jason sat on the counter in front of Hank, blowing at the back of his neck, while the hunk of muscle clenches his fist and rolls his eyes. “I think Gar needs this, Dick. He’s been through a lot already since he came with us,”

He looks at her, with half a smile. “He’s probably regretting that by now,”

“Probably,” Kory smiles back. “Take him. The two of you could use a little time together.”

He nods and takes a breath before addressing the teen. “Gar grab your bag. You’re coming with me.”

“You’re serious? I get to meet Batman.” Gar cries, leaping up in the air before he dashes out of the room. He reemerges in record time with his backpack over his shoulder, ready to go.

Dick sighs. “Jason,”

“Left my bag in the truck,” he boasts, slipping off the counter. “ready to roll.”

Dick shares a knowing look with Kory, and she giggles. “I’ll call you when we get there,” he says as she walks him to the elevator. He rolls his eyes as Hank does a celebratory dance and Jason flips him the bird in response. “wish me luck,” he mouths, and she does. As the doors close on her, he swallows. Time is ticking, and he knows when he returns, he won’t be able to kiss her or his fears away, he won’t be able to heal her bruises, or protect her by holding her hostage in his bed, sooner or later, he’ll have to open up, and he's kind of terrified.

&&&&&&

Dick pulls up outside the manor. His shoulders are tight, and his back is stiff from the flight, but his nerves are numbing it for the most part. Gar is half asleep and Jason has been wired the whole trip, asking about jobs he and Batman did together before he quit. It leaves him wondering if the kid ever stops moving, or thinking, or talking.

“How long’s it been?” Jason asks.

“Long enough,” Dick pushes the door open, as Jason shoves Gar awake, and they climb out together. He is filled with the familiar sensations he had when he first walked up those steps with a bag on his shoulder, carrying his entire life in it. He remembers Alfred answering the door, welcoming him, and trying to take his belongings. He clung to it so tight, Bruce said he could keep it and his coat on, until he was ready. He assured him that Alfred was there to take care of all his needs, but all he needed – wanted was to be with his family again, to be with Clay. All he wanted was to go home.

Dick breathes out, as he stands in front of the door, hovering. Gar hustles behind him, enthusiasm bursting from his seams. “Try not to touch anything, everything is too expensive, and try not to ask a million questions,” he says. "Also-,"

“Be quite, basically,” Jason teases.

“Who are you telling?” Gar nudges him, and they fall into a tit for tat.

“You saying I can’t be quiet?” Jason cries, “because you’d be right,” he laughs. “that’s right, I own my shit, I’m not afraid,”

Dick rolls his eyes and raps on the door, and in under a minute, it’s opening. On the other side is a kind, warm, and older face. “Alfred,” he smiles.

“Master Richard,” he extends his hand, and Dick takes it, and then they embrace. “It’s marvelous seeing you again after all this time,” he adds. “Did you get my letters?”

“Of course,” Dick smiles and ushers the kids in front of him. “I really appreciate everything you did, after – keeping in contact-,”

“You’re still family,” Alfred says. “even if you’re finding your own way, away from home,”

“Bow,” Jason whispers. “It’s a respect thing, you know, cause he’s old,”

“Oh,” Gar say. “right?”

Dick groans inwardly, pressing his palm against Gar’s chest to stop him from complying, and then he glares at Jason. “Quit while you're ahead,” he warns, and they follow Alfred into the kitchen. “Where is he?”

“Where he always is,” Alfred pulls the oven open and warm air wafts out, the smell of apple pie with golden crust sailing out, Dick's favorite. “Might I fix you boys something to eat while you wait?”

“Oh,” Gar’s eyes spring open, and he glances at Dick, who nods. “Yes, that’d be awesome. Plane food's a bit,” he sticks his tongue out.

“We’re starving,” Jason adds. “Turns out, Batman’s protégé can’t cook shit,”

“Oh, but he can,” Alfred teases.

“Oh yeah,” Jason hops onto a stool at the kitchen’s island, but Gar seems hesitant to go in.

"Yeah," Dick interjects. "Grilled cheese." He cups Har's shoulder. “Go eat something, I’ll be back.” He watches the teen join Jason on a stool. “And save me some,” he calls over his shoulder, smiling to himself when he hears Alfred asking Gar his name.

He walks along the wide, corridor and skips down a couple of steps, entering another, much narrower corridor, leading to a bookshelf in the well lit study. He tips Teachings of a Billionaire and bookshelf shifts. At the end of the tunnel, he sees the heavy metal door and the combination pad blinking. He chortles, wondering if maybe Bruce changed that code too, but he tries it anyway, surprised and relieved when it opens soundlessly.

Dick enters the cave, walking the short distance to where Bruce sits. In front of him are several monitors flashing over different information; algorithms, criminal records, traffic cams and weather readings. He huffs out of his nose. “You’re getting old,” he says, “didn’t even hear me come in.”

Bruce turns in his chair, with a small, measured smile on his face. “On the contrary,” he taps his keyboard and another screen lights up, showing playback of Dick walking to the cave. 

Dick sighs, because, of course. “Hi, Bruce.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been into the character side of things so far, but going forward, it will lean more into the plot.


	9. No Do Overs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick faces Bruce. Kory and the others train, and some startling information about Angela comes to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First half is Bruce's POV. *I scream*

Bruce clears his throat and stands, slipping both hands into his pockets. He looked arrogant sitting down, as though he didn’t need to greet Dick, “Hello Dick,” and he doesn’t want to look arrogant, like he isn't seeing him for the first time in a year, but now he’s standing, shuffling his feet and flexing his fingers in the rigid space of his trousers, he looks unsure instead. He isn’t unsure, it’s just been a while since they’ve been together in a room, and though he saw Dick arrive outside the manor, he realizes, he wasn’t expecting to, not for a long time, even though he requested it.

After their less than amicable split, Dick went from not responding well to requests, suggested or otherwise, to not responding at all. “I thought you were never going to set foot in Gotham again,” he manages, after a long silence regarding each other.

Dick huffs, “good to see you too,” he says, and Bruce teases a smile when Dick stuffs his hands into his pockets. A defense mechanism, perhaps one he’d passed onto the boy early on, that he now uses to steady himself in uncomfortable situations, to stay grounded. “Yeah, well,” he sighs, “I said a lot of things I thought I meant at the time.”

“And now?” Bruce folds his arms across his chest.

Dick swallows, considering the old man, eye to eye. “and now I’m here,”

Towards the end of their partnership, things were tense. Dick was no longer being indirect about their handling of criminals, and cases that were handed to them by the police. He was no longer stressing alternatives, he was outright refusing, deciding instead to find another way on his own.

A rock had sunk to the pit of his stomach, and it’s still there now, in the background. He remembers feeling that first violent tug that told him Dick was pulling away, and he knew then he was losing him. In hindsight, losing him slowly rather than all at once was a deep pain, he’d arrogantly never prepared for or even considered.

He always prided himself on being a moment to moment guy. He prepared for the future, but he never tried to predict it, so a future without Dick was something that blindsided him, and missing all the signs leading up to it was a ghost that haunted him still. “You need my help?”

“I’m sure Jason filled you in already,” Dick says, and Bruce catches the tiny snarl, and the bite in his voice.

Now stood in front of the man whom was once a boy, alone, grieving and vengeful, Bruce is filled with his own anger, his own grief – and shame that he should feel any of it when he was the only one to blame for losing Dick to his own pig-headedness.

“Only the broad strokes,” Bruce assures. “He trusts you, Dick, and contrary to what you may believe, I respect your privacy.”

“Said the man who put a tracker in me,” Dick says.

Bruce breathes hard through his nose and drops his gaze. “Admittedly, not my finest moment,” he looks up and finds Dick’s eyes. “But when a 13-year old in your charge keeps running away, knowing where they are, and that they’re safe makes things a little -,” he sighs. “there’s no excuse.”

Dick puffs out a breath, and his shoulders drop. “I didn’t come here to fight,” he says, rubbing his forehead. “I’m done fighting,” he pauses, then gestures to Bruce, “with you anyway,”

Bruce’s chest tightens. He’s made so many mistakes, and it took Dick leaving him to highlight them. Now he sees all the ways he went wrong, and with Jason under his tutelage, he is wondering if maybe Dick was right to escape. But he can at least take solace in the fact Alfred was there for the boy growing up, in all the ways he wishes he’d allowed himself to be.

“But I do need your help,” Dick says, with his nose flared, and his eyes square on him.

Yet, Bruce can’t but smile at Dick, a man in his own right, and of his own making. He’s overcome with pride that he can’t take any of the credit. “What do you need?” he asks, immediately flushed with relief, to visibly see the tension leave Dick’s body.

“Your satellite,” Dick’s smile is small, but it’s enough.

Of all the possible futures Dick Grayson could’ve had, the one without him is what haunts him the most. The possibilities of him having the life he was meant to have. Even so, he can’t bring himself to regret having been given the chance to watch the boy growing into his own hero.

“Then it’s all yours.” Bruce opens his arms, a smirk tugging at his lips. Finally, something Dick needs from him. Maybe he isn’t as obsolete in his world, as he’d first thought.

&&&&&

Kory ties her hair back. She’s sweaty, and tired, but she can go another round before calling it quits. Besides, she needs this workout to keep her mind off how worried she is about Rachel and how long she’s been with her manipulative father already. Or how worried she is about Gar’s emotional state, and how he may be falling apart from the inside out. And Dick – well, he’s another story entirely. Not to mention her memories – what a shit show.

“I’m going to be your target this time,” Kory says. “Pick a weapon. Any weapon.”

Dawn raises a brow at that. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” Kory winks. “I had some training back home,” she stretches her arms over her head, and then behind her back. “and by some, I mean, a lot.” And then she rolls her shoulders back, adding, “I’m not afraid of sharp objects.”

“Your memories coming back?” Donna asks, pulling her lasso free from its hook on the wall.

“In parts,” Kory answers.

“And the barefoot thing?” Dick glances across the floor at their bare feet, and then wriggles his toes.

“A foot up the ass is better than a boot, no?” Kory rolls her ankles until they click, and then she clenches her fists and runs at him. 

They’ve been going at it for hours, pairing first against each other, then sparring one-on-one, and then all on one, and now it's her turn. She’s observing their every move, has been since the start, watching their recovery time, skill distinction, synchronicity and power. For the most part, they’re impressive, but she wants to shock them out of practice mode into fight mode.

The lasso wraps around Kory’s waist and launches her backwards, fisting Hank’s shirt, she pulls him with her, and turns as they fly, landing on his chest when he splats on the mat. She yanks the lasso, bringing Donna towards her and punches her in the stomach, sending her back, crashing into the wall.

Dawn throws a punch. Kory catches her fist in her left hand and presses her right into the mat, cartwheeling her legs up and around her neck, before bringing her down to the floor on her back. Then she runs at Donna as she lashes the lasso out, slipping under it and between Donna’s legs, she grabs her arm and pulls her, forcing the Amazonian to her knees. Moving quickly, as Dawn advances again, she piggybacks off Donna’s back, kicking Dawn in the chest with both feet.

Hank moves towards her fast, and she blocks his blows, powerful and heavy. He’s big and heavy, and his blows hurt when they land, but he’s slower than the girls, too, and that works in her favor. She can almost predict his moves, and blocks each one, before slipping between his block and punching him in the chest, followed swiftly with a kick in the side of his head.

“Ouch,” Donna enunciates. “Are we practicing or fighting?”

She rolls away, out of Dawn’s grasp, and moves backwards, to watch them. Hank knows how to use his body, he doesn’t throw it about, relying on his heft to do the work, and she likes that. Dawn’s quick and powerful, but she also calculates her moves, and Donna is strong, impulsive, and able to make use of anything in her grasp to get results.

“They’re the same thing,” Kory says, tightening her fists, watching Hank inch towards her and runs up his leg, kicking him in the chest with her left, then right foot, before spinning to face Dawn who now has a staff in her hands. “Took me up on my offer,” she teases, and jumps back as the Dawn swings it in her face.

She jerks her shoulder back, then ducks, and rolls around Dawn, pulling the staff with her and swinging under it, spiralling Dawn to the floor. Kory stumbles back and light flashes behind her eyelids when Hank’s fist connects. She barely catches his next fist, hooking his arm with her left, and drives her knee into his elbow, going down with him and pinning him to the mat.

Kory is scraped backward, when Dawn drags her with the staff pressed to her collarbone. She slams her head back into her face, then throws her elbow back into her ribs, before lifting her body up and using it as she comes back down, to flip Dawn over her.

The lasso whooshes and she looks down at it snaking around her ankle as it pulls her off her feet and into the wall above Donna’s head. She falls hard, landing on her knee, panting as she finds her breath. Mustering up a smile, Kory stands. Finally, they’re awake, even though she can see they’re just as tired as she is, she can feel the adrenaline racking up. “Did I upset you, Donna?”

Donna smirks. “Not at all, I was just getting a little tired of climbing to my feet.” She says. “It’s been a while since I’ve trained this hard. Knees aren’t what they used to be.”

“Fair enough,” Kory dusts her knee. “I’m not your friend,” she says. “and none of you are my friends, not when we’re in this room.” Smiling, she adds, “with that said, should we go again? Unless you’re all too tired?”

“Actually,” Hank laughs. “We’ve been at his for hours,” and then groans, nursing a stitch in his side. “Mr. Chubby needs an interval.”

“Not now, Hank,” Dawn says, picking up her staff. She drops into a squatted position and spins it above and around her head, and then runs forward. The lasso whooshes again, but this time, Kory feels it rippling in the air, and turns, catching it around her wrist. She rolls, yanking Donna into her, and spin around her back, wrapping her in the rope. As Dawn comes, she braces against Donna’s shoulder and kicks her back, racing forward to pull her in and wrap her, too.

Hank steps off the mat, crossing his arms, and watches.

Kory’s heart is thumping in her ears and against her chest. The fire rages beneath her skin, power surging from her core and through her veins, pushing her to move faster. They free themselves and rush forward, and as Dawn slams the staff, trying to catch Kory’s feet, Donna is throwing punches. Kory blocks the staff, then a punch, then the staff, and two punches, before gripping Donna by her collar and catapulting her into the wall she’d fallen from moments before.

She falls in line with Dawn, dancing around the mat, using her knee and elbows to block the stick, and catches it, spinning it under Dawn’s arm and snatching it when she lets go. Kory swings it around her head, before bringing it down on Donna’s shoulder when she comes, and swings it back into Dawn’s knee, then Kory spins on her knee, ramming it into Donna’s belly, flipping it under her arm to slide back against Dawn’s foot as she comes behind her.

Donna stands, and runs at her, knee first, slamming it into her chest, then drops low, sweeping a leg under her as she stumbles back and splats on the mat. Kory lifts her leg around Donna’s shoulder as she comes down, and wraps her other arm under hers, trapping her there. They roll to their side, and after a moment of heavy breathing, they fall apart, fighting to catch their breaths.

Hank claps slowly. “Brave,” he says, deadpan. “You ladies feel better?”

“Great actually,” Donna says, and bursts out laughing, as she rubs her sore elbow. “Ow,” she cries, and then Kory and Dawn join in, laughing hysterically, and Hank raises his brow at them, watching suspiciously. 

“You do know, you all got your asses kicked, right, by each other?” he teases.

“That was-,” Dawn pants, leaning against the beam, holding her foot up against her thigh to rub it. “fun.”

“Yeah, it was,” Kory giggles, slowly forcing herself to sit up. Her stomach, shoulders and quads hurting.

Hank sighs. “Can we eat now? I’m starving.”

Dawn puts her hand up. “I could rustle us up-,”

“No,” Hank and Donna speak simultaneously.

“I ordered pizza,” Donna adds, pulling her phone from her back pocket, and holding it up in the air for them to see. “Uber.”

“Come on, Donna,” Hank groans, as he holds his waist, leaning back into a stretch and hissing. “You have beautiful counter tops, state of the art cookware and you order a pizza,” he grinds out, narrowing his eyes on her with a smirk. “Did you get extra pepperoni and sausage?”

“You know it,” Donna shoots back with a smile, and then stands, dragging Kory with her. “Let’s go. We’ve earned the right to pig out. Dick would be proud.”

“I’ll be right there,” Kory sniffles. “Someone should tidy up a bit,”

“I’ll help,” Dawn quickly volunteers as Donna starts to offer.

“OK,” Donna sings, shrugging, before she follows Hank out of the training room, leaving the two of them alone.

Kory collects the towels they soaked through, and slumps on the weapons table, eyeing Dawn as she picks up the staff and Donna’s lasso, sliding them back into their places. She doesn’t need help, and she can feel Dawn hovering, feel her restless energy jumping around the room. “Just say it, whatever it is,”

Dawn clears her throat and joins Kory where she stands. “Did you tell Dick before he left about the video on your ship?” and her silence says it all. “Kory, you have to tell him, all of them.”

“We have a mission already, remember,” Kory argues. “Rachel. We get her back and send her asshole father back to hell.” She sighs, after a moment of heavy silence. “It’s probably not even connected.”

“But what if it is?” Dawn asks, and her voice is soft and concerned. “And even if it isn’t, something tells me they would want to know,” she swallows, before adding. “Dick especially.”

Kory’s heart stutters at the mention of his name, and she looks up at Dawn. “Dick and I are – complicated, so I don’t know what you think you know-,”

“It’s not about what I think.” Dawn smiles knowingly, tilting her head to call Kory’s eyes back to hers. “It’s about what I saw. Dick, back at that motel, worried about you,” she shakes her head. “even before that, I noticed a thing between the two of you, a bond, at the house.” Taking a tiny step closer, Dawn licks her lip. “It’s different for him this time. You’re different.”

“We’ve been through a lot,” Kory offers because she doesn’t want to talk about something when she has no idea what it is, or where it’s going, if anywhere. “Trying to protect Rachel.”

Dawn laces her fingers together. “You can stop me if you want to, but I’ve never seen Dick look at _anyone_ the way he looks at you. It’s more than what you guys have been through.” She looks into Kory’s eyes, and Kory almost squirms, her dark eyes are so big, and warm, and comforting, simultaneously drawing out all her secrets. “The way you look at him when he’s not looking, and the way he gravitates to wherever you are when you’re in the same room, it’s,” she swallows. “I don’t know if you know, but you’re very important him, Kory.”

“I care about him, too.” Kory clears her throat, but it does nothing to drown out the sound of her heart thumping a thousand times louder than usual. “I care about all of them, that’s why we need to deal with one problem at a time. We get Rachel back first, okay?”

“Kory,” Dawn cries.

“Dawn, you thanked me for trusting you, now I’m asking you to trust me back,”

Dawn sighs, and nods. “OK,” she agrees. “OK, but if you get any inkling, a memory, anything that may be related to what we saw on that ship, you have to tell.”

“Fine,” Kory huffs, and watches Dawn leave before letting go of a breath. She feels guilty for lying to Dawn’s face, even though she hasn’t known her that long, she senses a genuine concern, and a growing loyalty. But she isn’t ready for anyone to know her memories aren’t returning to her in parts like she said. That her memories have returned in their full glory, every painful, wonderful, mundane and exquisite part of it, especially the part where she accepted a mission to Earth to escape her life on Tamaran.

How can she tell them, Dick and Rachel especially, that she arranged to have her own memories wiped, once she’d stopped the Raven, so she could live out a normal and anonymous life on Earth? That she planned on taking a tonic, brewed from Tamaran by a deeply close and trusted friend, once it was over. And that, somehow, all her memories got muddled up, and she lost the Raven in the mix. Did the person she trusted most on Tamaran sabotage her or did she make the mistake?

The malfunction of her ship and Raven aren't connected, as far as she knows, it’s all to do with her, and one pissed off sister back home, rather than an unfortunate teenager with powerful abilities, desperate to be normal and not so destined, just like her.

&&&&&

“She’s a good kid,” Dick watches Bruce activate his satellite code in the supercomputer, leaning over his chair. The other screens flash fast and furious with an overwhelming load of information, ranging from old articles about the Raven in folklore, religious and mythological texts, mortality rates, and strange animal occurrences around the time of Rachel’s birthday.

“If you say she is, then I know she is,” Bruce says, searching each of his screens with a watchful eye.

Traffic, ATM and street security cams run quietly in the background, along with mugshots. Dick scoffs, all he has is his computer and instinct, and somehow, he’d forgotten how much technology and money was at Bruce’s disposals. A few weeks in motel rooms, eating pizza and fighting off a super powered suburban family of four made it easy.

Dick wonders as he glances through all the information, all the computers are collecting on Rachel, how much Bruce knows about Kory, because he knows having Jason around hasn’t afford him any favors in privacy. He swallows, watching the back of Bruce’s head, and a part of him wants to ask, and gauge a reaction, but he doesn’t want to find out anything Kory’s not ready for him to know. 

Besides, he doesn’t want her on his radar, or anyone’s radar for that matter. Call it instinct or paranoia after spending god knows how many hours with Trigon, but what Bruce did to her, still lingers in the back of his mind. He knows how tactful Bruce is, how mistrustful, and pessimistic, and the part that knows that, doesn’t want to him anywhere near Kory, even in conversation. He purses his lips instead.

“Back at the tower, we’re running scans on extreme weather fluctuations, sudden crop failures, mass accidents – who knows what he’s doing,” Dick swallows. “or planning.”

“It’s going to take a day at most to get any results from the satellite,” Bruce huffs out, turning in his chair to face Dick. “So, who’s your new friend?”

“Gar,” Dick smiles fondly. “special kid, good kid.”

Bruce hums. “Special, or _special_?” when Dick glances away, he nods, and doesn’t push. “How’s Jason getting along with everyone?”

Dick scoffs. “Doing his best to be annoying,” he shrugs, “one of his favorite hobbies, that and fighting.”

“Ah yes,” Bruce smiles. “He does like a good brawl. Reminds me of someone.”

Dick chuckles. “Yeah, well, he’s still young. All he needs is a little sandpaper around the edges, but he’s got potential,” he swallows. “he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t,”

Bruce mirrors the swallow. “Your friends at the tower-,”

Dick clears his throat, “Can we talk,” he asks, scratching the edge of his ear.

“We are talking,” Bruce’s face twists.

“Not about _stuff_ ,” Dick says. “the tower, or Jason, I mean talk,” he looks up, meeting Bruce’s eyes.

Bruce gives a fraction of a nod, and Dick can see he’s apprehensive, though he’s impressively apt at hiding such tells, he had the pleasure of watching him as he grew up and learning each one. He gestures to the chair Dick stands beside, and he sighs before pulling it out to sit in. 

Dick takes a breath, considering his words before he lets them all out at once. “I uh,” he chuckles, cupping his chin, and dragging his fingers across his jaw. “I guess I want to say, thank you.”

Bruce’s eyes widen, and he’s quick to recover from the shock, but under Dick’s watchful eyes, not fast enough. “For what?”

Dick chuckles, because it’s always been so much easier to list all the things, he was mad about, but he quickly sobers at the thought of Trigon, and how Batman had killed Kory, and he in turn had killed Batman. He’d spent so much time being angry at Bruce, thinking about how he’d turned him into a weapon, and wanting him to suffer for taking his childhood away, that it had taken him a while (the plane, and long ride up to the manor) to find all the things he’d dismissed that he should’ve been grateful for.

He sees it clearly now; he sees everything a little better. “When I was in that dream,” he takes a beat, and huffs out a laugh. “nightmare, actually. There was so much rage inside, it was intoxicating. Then I woke up, and it felt smaller somehow, and I realized, that all this time I thought I hated you, but,” he looks up at Bruce. “I don’t.”

Bruce shifts in his chair, leans into his elbow. “Dick, I don’t want-,”

“Let me finish, please,” Dick says, and Bruce nods. “Trigon showed me things in that place, things I don’t want to be my future. Our future. I was angry a long time, about what I’d lost, what was taken from me, and I blamed you, but it wasn’t all your fault – it’s not,” he swallows. “Being Robin. Not being Robin. It messed me up for a while, because I didn’t know who I was without it, all I knew was, I couldn’t put everything down. Everything that had happened here.” Dick meets Bruce’s eyes for a moment. “What you taught me. What you showed me.” He leans forward, clasping his hands. “I felt stuck, even hundreds of miles away. You were the model I followed, and I left because I thought if I didn’t, I would have to keep it, your ideas of justice, relationships, of leadership,” he sighs with relief, “but I don’t.”

Bruce smiles then.

“I’m realizing now that for all the terrible things I went through as a kid, it all led me here.” Dick smiles at Bruce, and the burden that weighed in his chest shakes loose. He’s breathing fully, for the first time. “I’m grateful for everything you did for me, everything you taught me, but I’m doing it my way now. I’m making a new model, and I don’t need Robin, or Batman. Bruce might be a different story.”

“I appreciate your candor, Dick,” Bruce says quietly, “I’m glad we’re talking,”

Dick huffs out a laugh. “I wish I’d said it sooner.”

“Me too, but I’m relieved you’re out the other side, and - I'm here if you ever, need anything.”

Dick nods. He thought Bruce had robbed him of his childhood, forgetting it had already been stolen that night at the circus. And yet, without losing his innocence, maybe he wouldn’t be the one now, fighting to protect the childhood innocence of the kids in his charge. Suffice it to say, all this happened to him for a reason, and that reason was finally making sense.

Maybe everything had to happen the way it did to make him who he is, and who he wants to be. Maybe his destiny was not to be a weapon of destruction, but a tool for healing. And all his pain was preparing him, so he’d understand how to take it away from others. Learning to fight was a necessary process, so he could one day teach others how to defend themselves. 

Maybe being raised in the darkness made him the one to lead others out of it and into the light. And his parents not being around to share his life, didn’t mean the world was what he first believed it to be, a banality of evil and despair. Now he knows that’s not all that exists, that love and forgiveness, and redemption can and does exist alongside it. The world is not as black and white as Bruce once thought

“And do you know who you are now?” Bruce asks.

Dick laughs softly. “For now,” he says. “I’m just the son of Mary and John Grayson. The rest, I’m still figuring out.”

“Fair enough,” Bruce nods, clearing his throat. “You should know, Dick, that I saw greatness in you from the beginning, even as a boy with a broken heart. I saw everything you could be beneath all the despair and pain; you always had a tenderness about you, and empathy for others. You thrived, not only because you’re the most brilliantly skilled acrobat I’ve ever seen, but because you had a quintessential skill I admired then, and still admire now,” he breathes out, with a smile. “A supernatural amount of tenacity.”

Dick chuckles, leaning back into his chair with a bounce. “You mean stubborn.”

“Basically,” Bruce laughs.

Seeing Bruce now, as a man, rather than his guardian who should have been all the things he wanted, he sees a truth he never allowed himself to see before, a truth that always existed somewhere deep down. That Bruce is an orphaned boy, too, struggling to find his way in the world with a mask on, playing in the darkness so that he can one day face his own. He owes Bruce more than his wrath, more than this blame, but thanks too, and acknowledgment, because half of what he is now, is because of the man sat in front of him. Laughing.

He may have passed down his lack of social skills, a quick temper and mistrustful nature, but he also passed down his eye for detail and obsession with puzzles, in games and life. He taught him how master his mind as well as his body and prepare for the future but never try to predict it, he had lessons to last him a lifetime.

Bruce leans forward, with a weary sigh. “I still wonder sometimes, if I did the right thing taking you in. If I was helping you by letting you join me in the shadows or helping myself.”

Dick swallows, and glances down.

“Was it ego?” My need to pass everything I knew down to someone else, or to make us a symbol to be feared,” he says, “spreading that fear in Gotham among those who conspired to destroy it.” Bruce shrugs. “I sheltered you, it’s true, but did I give you a home,” he asks rhetorically. “Should I have left you with the big guy, Clay, with all the heart, put some money in his bank and walked away? I don’t know,” he looks up and Dick meets his eyes. “I never truly will, neither of us will.” Smirking, he adds, “you know I’m not one for loose ends,”

Dick scoffs. He knows alright.

“But that’s an end we’ll never get to tie.”

Dick struggled most of his life wondering the same thing, if growing up with Clay could’ve given him a better life, but in truth he knows the answer, he always has, he also knows the answer wouldn’t change the one he had. He may not have had an obvious father in Bruce, but he had a damn good teacher and mentor, and that was practically the same thing. Despite the growing pains, he had a decent childhood, better than most

Realizing that, and watching Jason be Robin, made him realize, the mask had stopped fulfilling him long before he ever left Batman behind. It no longer hid the pain or served the unquenchable rage inside of him, only letting of it did. Being Robin didn’t work anymore, not the way it used to, and seeing Jason embrace it the way he did, he knew then he couldn't go back there, and that he didn't want to. So, what Trigon really did, when he showed him all those possibilities, was help him realize, even if he had a chance at a do over, he wouldn’t want one.

Dick smiles coyly. “I guess some things are better as mysteries,”

“I suppose that true,” Bruce says, reminiscently. 

“You did the best you could, we both did,” Dick breathes out long and hard. “And now I want to do better for Rachel and Gar.”

“And you will.” Bruce adds.

Dick huffs out through his nose, a smile lingering, and glances out at the running screens as a mugshot clicks by. “Who was that?” he stands, and winds the photos back, until he finds her, with the same blue eyes as Rachel, a young pudgy face and dark hair. “She looks exactly like Rachel,”

“Angela Azarath,” Bruce says with a sigh, and then taps in a code, unlocking a file where multiple sub-files load. “Rachel’s birth mother,"

“So, you know about her too?” Dick looks at the old pictures and articles on the screen. He was working his way up to telling Bruce everything that happened at the house, but he hadn’t yet filled him in on how Rachel’s mother was involved.

“She’s a Gotham native,” Bruce says. “She disappeared a little over two decades ago. A cult. She was last seen getting off a bus in Detroit. I tracked her there, but shortly after, the trail went cold.”

"Gotham." Dick scrubs a hand over his face. “We found her in an asylum, we think she was planted there to lure Rachel to her, so-,”

“Asylum?” Bruce asks, turning in his chair. “No,” he says. “That couldn't have been the girl's mother,”

“What do you mean?” Dick asks, as his stomach wrings tight.

“Rachel’s birth mother, Angela Azarath is dead.” Bruce says. “She died fourteen years ago.”

Dick swallows, and clenches his fists tight, wondering who the fucks at the tower, if Angela Azarath is dead?


	10. Many-Faced Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kory and the others stumble on a discovery, revealing Trigon's plans for Rachel, and Rachel grows stronger, _and_ weaker. Meanwhile, Dick and Bruce come to an understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long one, please forgive any mistakes. I hope you enjoy!

Hank is perched on the kitchen counter, polishing off a slice of pizza when Kory walks in on his orgasmic groans. She leans against the other side of the island, watching him until he notices her, and then she smiles. “Enjoying yourself?”

Hank hums with approval as the cheese stretches with his next bite and falls down his chin. “Is that a real question?”

Kory giggles and reaches over, sliding the greasy box across the island. She sighs, and then bites down on a slice, hoping the momentary euphoria of eating bad food will take her mind away from her conversation with Dawn, from her memories, or Dick and the kids. From any of it, and Hank and cheese seems like a healthy distraction.

“So, what’s it like?” He asks, folding a second slice in half.

Kory sighs, taking a deep breath and holding it in her shoulders before blowing it out. She waited for this, expected it even, assuming they were bound to be curious about her, and her powers, and her home, but it still unsettles her. This existential dualism between Kory and Koriand’r. 

Feeling out of sorts isn’t a typical sensation for her. She’s always had the ability to blend into whatever environment she is passing through, but this, being with them in the tower doesn’t feel temporary. At least, she doesn’t want it to be because she doesn’t have to blend in to fit in, and she doesn’t have to be someone she isn’t. To Rachel, and Gar, and Dick, she’s just Kory.

But maybe to the others, she’s the alien named Kory, which feels almost as rigid an identity as the one she assumed to infiltrate Konstantin’s business, or the one given to her back home, and she wants to be more than that.

“What?” She breezes out.

“Being stuck on the road with boy wonder,” Hank chews obnoxiously, oblivious to the mental knots she just tied herself into, trying to decide which Kory she wanted to be. But now, she thinks she likes him even more for consistently being unpredictable.

“You really have it in for him, don’t you?” She leans her elbow against the counter. “What happened?”

Hank’s jaw dances, and he slows down on the chewing, she assumes to give himself time to consider an answer that isn’t laced with sarcasm or derision. “Let’s just say Dick and me have a lot of shit in our past,” he sighs, “and it has a tendency to stink up the place when we spend too much time breathing the same air,” reaching for his beer, he takes a long swig, his throat stretching long, and muscular as he tips his head back. He growls after his gulp. “Truth is, he gets on my fucking nerves most of the time, but I still have his back when he needs me to. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Kory smiles at that. “it was easy,” she says, and he turns his shoulder to her. “in answer to your question,” she shrugs, “when we weren’t fighting for our lives or pretending, we could sleep in smelly motel rooms, we listened to music on the road, mostly mine,” she smiles, remembering Rachel moaning about it. “it drove Rachel and Gar crazy,” and sitting beside Dick, watching his jaw clench and his shoulders stiffen as he tried to hide his restlessness. But she saw his mind turning over in his eyes, every time he looked across at her. “and the whole time Dick formed plans, and plan B's, and plans on top of those so he could keep them safe,”

Hank scoffs. “The guy’s a sucker for an orphaned kid,”

Kory chuckles, it’s as if he means it come out as an insult, but she catches the faraway look in his eyes, and the tension rolling along his shoulders, and she wonders if he’s an orphan, too. “You know he gave up his Porsche, so the kids could sleep comfortably while on the road,” she shrugs. “he’s endearingly uptight, but-,” but he’s good, all twisted up inside, but so good, or at least, he’s always trying to be. “I don’t know,” she daren’t finish what she’s thinking. “I’ll have his back when he needs me to.”

Hank huffs out a breath through his nose, a smile teasing his mouth. “You must be some kind of special putting up with him,”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Kory watches him, draws a map over the red blotches blooming around his chest and neck, the yellow in his knuckles as his grip on the bottle tightens, and his ticking jaw. Tick. Tick. Like a bomb waiting to go off. Something flashes across his eyes, a memory maybe, or a sad thought, but she feels it’s weight, and watches it influence on his body. “Dawn told me how the two of you met. Not the intimate details, just the broad strokes.” She says, slow, and careful. “Sounds like the two of you have been through a lot together.”

Hank stiffens, and his nose flares, but he doesn’t look at her. “What’s your point?”

“I’m not making one,” Kory shifts her weight to her other leg. “Making conversation. Apparently, small talk is proper custom around here, among friends.” Her gaze falls when he turns to find it. “I wouldn’t know, I don’t have that many.”

He chuckles and reaches into the six-pack for another bottle. “Friends, huh?” he sings, snapping the cap off to take a sip. “Well, it never hurts to have friends, especially ones who fall under the category of critical in badassery.”

Kory giggles. “Hand me a beer?”

He slides the pack across the counter and Kory frees a bottle, cracking the lid and taking a generous pull. She savors the cool liquid as it runs down her throat, mapping its way to her stomach. “Do you have family, Hank?” his face melts and she wishes she could take it back.

Hank clears his throat and rolls his shoulders back. “I uh, had a little brother. Don.” He breathes out.

“I’m sorry for asking,” Kory murmurs.

He scrunches his mouth up. “No, you’re good.” And sniffles. “You didn’t know.” Scrubbing the back of his hand across his chin, he sneaks a glance at her, finally. “What about you?”

Kory licks her lips and sighs. “one of each,” she stretches her lips out. “but we’re not close.” A moment of silence unfolds between them, but it isn’t as heavy as it is contemplative – and while she wonders what his real gripe with Dick is, now she can at least see where the pain that emanates from him, all the time, comes from. The grief for his brother is ocean deep, and crashing beneath the surface of his skin, against old wounds and unquenchable rage. Maybe that’s why one beer or three won’t do, because an ocean can’t drown itself.

“Speaking of birds, you hear anything yet?” Hank’s voice breaks half-way through his sentence.

And Kory pretends she didn’t hear it. “Nothing,” she shakes her head, glancing at him, as laughter rolls up in her chest. “You miss him, don’t you? Jason.”

Hank snorts. “Fuck no,” sipping on his beer, he rolls his eyes when she laughs again. “Are you kidding me? I don’t miss that little asshole. It’s been nothing but blue skies and fucking sunshine since he left.”

Kory surrenders with her hands in the air. “OK.” And then she grabs another slice of pizza, folding it the way she saw him do it earlier.

“Good, right?” He asks as he teases another slice between his fingers, winking when she nods. “You can thank, Donna,”

“For what?” Donna strolls into the kitchen with an empty plate and glass, shoving both into the sink with a clink. She blows air up into her face, and groans inwardly, passing them both to pull up at chair at the table where an untouched, lukewarm box of pizza awaits her. 

“Are you okay?” Kory asks.

“Yeah, just-,” Donna slumps down and lifts the lid off. “She just-,” she shivers and sits back with a slice.

“She fucked a demon,” Hank says, “what do you expect?”

“She’s been brainwashed,” Kory interjects. “No one in their right mind-,”

Donna mumbles something into her slice before she bites, and then frowns, turning to them both. “Did we find anything on her – where she was before the asylum? With who?”

“Not a whole lot,” Hank answers. “her records are sealed, courtesy of a military background. Her dad, I think.,” he glances up trying to remember. “All her social medias were inactive, except for a group she joined called ‘Church of Origin, but as far I could see, she never participated. There was a few sporadic re-posts about parental oppression, anti-war and God, but then nothing after that, anywhere, ever again.”

Dawn finishes towel drying her hair as she walks in, wrapped in a fluffy grey gown, but her fresh clothes peek through as she stands at Hank’s side. She nudges her hip against his knee, but he barely acknowledges the act engagement or her.

“Oh, Kory,” Dawn rounds the island, pulling Kory’s book from her large pocket and sliding it towards her. “Guess Hank forgot to give this to you,”

“Everything went to crap the minute we got our hands on it,” Hank says apologetically.

“It’s okay,” Kory picks it up, brushing her fingers over the emboldened patterns. “Thank you.” And joins Donna at the table. She swallows, opening it, and scans the texts and drawings.

“Anything useful?” Donna asks.

“I don’t know yet,” 

“Maybe you remember something,” Dawn urges, and Kory glares at her, before flipping another page, scanning the contents for something, anything to jump out at her.

She glides her finger along a paragraph of symbols and pauses, “I – I think there may be something here,” 

Donna scrapes her chair around the table to Kory’s side, and peers over her shoulder, frowning, as she glances over the text. “We are reading about the same demon, right? Trigon?”

Kory swallows. Before, she didn’t have the time to explain in detail what Trigon really was, or just how terrifying the implications of him being here was, not when Rachel and Gar were trapped in a house with him. “Trigon has had many names across millennia,” she says, “in an array of religious and mythological texts.”

“Conquest?” Donna gasps. “As in the four-“

“horsemen, yeah,” Kory points to another symbol. “Pride. One of most destructive of the deadly sins.” She takes a breath. “Some groups even thought he was the fallen angel, Lucifer. But he’s not, he’s pure demon.”

“If you believe in that kind of stuff,” Hank interjects. “I mean, you can be a personification of a thing without being _the_ thing, it’s all parabolic.”

“We’re hunting a _literal_ demon,” Donna says, scornfully.

“Yeah, well, one thing at a time, folks,” Hank says. “I don’t need my head blown off every thirty seconds by some in real-time horror movie plot twist.”

“The more we know the better though, right?” Dawn asks, and Hank takes another sip of his beer, as though he’s using it to drown all the things, he really wants to say to her. “We’re all just taking this in our stride here,”

“Guys,” Kory calls, holding her finger over the text with a drawing of a hooded figure on its knees below it. “Without Rachel he can’t enter your world, right? He needs an invitation.”

“That part we already know,” Donna says.

“It says when he was banished the first time,” Kory begins. “he lost potency of his powers,”

“So, he’s weak,” Dawn deduces.

“That explains the lack of apocalypse,” Hank quips.

“invitation isn’t the only thing he needs to destroy this world, and all others,” Kory continues. 

“What is it?” Dawn asks, coming over to the table. “What does he need?”

“He needs the Raven.” Kory forces through clenched teeth.

“Meaning?” Hank asks.

Kory huffs out. “Rachel using her powers in any way will only strengthen him,”

Donna rubs the lines from her forehead. “in other words, the more powerful she gets-,”

“The more power Trigon will be able to siphon from her.” Kory finishes. “Dick was right about him needing her.”

“For all we know he’s already got her sipping on the power juice,” Hank groans.

“Rachel would fight before she ever gave in. But yes, in theory, once he has the Raven.” Kory closes her book. “He can end the world.”

&&&&&

Rachel sits at the table and rubs her sweaty forehead with the end of her sleeve. She breathes through the fatigue and clenches her jaw to stop herself from gagging at the smell of all the food decorating the table. She knows now after a few days there, that most of the food and its disgusting arrangements is for her father’s equally disgusting, and greedy pet, Bee.

Her attention is on the hole she’s trying to rip through space, the same way she able to on Danny street, but it flickers weakly, and then closes. Each time, it drags every bit of energy she has out of her, but she doesn’t care what it costs. The only thing she cares about is helping her friends stop him for good, and if she’s going to do that, she can’t be afraid anymore, and she can’t hold back. It’s all she can think about, and every moment dragged out over this gross meal is time she could be using to practice.

“Are you alright, my child?” Trigon asks, sliding the jug of water towards her, the glass condensed as the ice inside melts. His legs are crossed away from the table and food and it reminds her that he’s barely eaten anything since they’ve been there. It makes her question if it’s even necessary for him to eat, of it he does it to make her feel more comfortable around him.

A part of her has been wishing, hoping some part of him is human, that he was once a real man cursed by some witch to live a life of darkness. But she knows deep down, it’s just a story she’s telling herself, stories like her mother used to tell her so she wouldn’t be afraid of monsters. Melissa always told her monsters were metaphors for bad people, the ones with too much money, and men in suits with too much power, she told her monsters didn’t live under the bed, but in plain sight, pretending to be like everybody else. But Rachel hoped anyway, because the more human her parents were, the more hope there was for her to stay human.

“I’m fine,” she says, “a little underwhelmed is all,”

“Oh?” He smirks, tilting his head to regard her. “and what is it you were expecting?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel shrugs her shoulders, and pushes her plain noodles around the plate with her fork. “something else, I guess. Creepy birds, a bloody sky, screaming and crying,” she breezes out. “So far, it’s been eating, and TV, and long speeches.”

Trigon laughs at that and claps his hands together. “When playing a game of chess, one must have all their pieces in the right place before striking.” He smirks at her. “But I am impressed by your imagination. What else does it conjure for this world’s inevitable end?”

“Get your own imagination,” Rachel drops her fork in the plate with a clang and sits back. She doesn’t want to look eager to leave, but she can’t stay much longer because she has work to do.

“Spunk,” Trigon says, proudly, as she glares at him. “finally.”

“Teenage hormones,” Bee says, slurping on bone marrow. “Few things make teenagers insufferable; hunger. Exhaustion, and lust.” She grins. “It seems at maturation they begin lusting over the opposite sex, or the same sex, or both at the same time, it’s quite an exciting time.”

“Well,” Trigon laces his fingers together. “She’s eating now, so she’s not hungry, and she has a King-sized bed, so I can't imagine sleep is a problem, even if she wants it to be. Which would leave-,”

“I’m not some animal in a cage,” Rachel growls. “You can’t just cross things off a list and think it means you know me, because you don’t.” she scrapes her chair back. “Just because you have this dumb demon as your pet, doesn’t mean-,”

“Oooh,” Bee sings, her eyes growing abnormally large and shiny. “You finally got me.”

“Yes, I know you’re a demon.” Rachel retorts. “I also know your name,” she smiles as Bee’s slowly fades away, the shine in her eyes eclipsed by a storm cloud. “which I hear is not a good look for you, if you were hoping to stick around.” But it’s the pride in her father’s face that becomes too much, like an itch she can’t scratch, and she wants to scratch it right out of her skin. “I’m not hungry anymore, but I guess you already know that, right?” and with that, she leaves the table and returns to her room, closing the door behind her.

Taking a deep breath into her chest, she opens her hands, flexing them and brings the opening of a portal to her. Each time she summons one, it grows a little bigger, and the power surging through her body, stronger.

She runs a loop of Heaven Must Be Missing an Angel, and god, does it make her miss Kory so much, it aches. But something is pulling her away, overwhelming her body with so much adrenaline she has to sit down on the bed to stop her head from spinning. “Gar,” he comes to her, almost completely by himself, as though he’s reaching out, but she knows that’s not it, that it’s their emotional connection allowing her to feel him, and he’s thinking about her.

His feelings fill her up like a cup overrun with muddied water. His fear and uncertainty around his abilities is powerful, and it brings tears to her eyes, “No,” because she knows he would never hurt anyone on purpose, especially not those he cares about.

She closes her hand and lets the portal go. Electricity runs through her veins and she focuses on its warmth traveling beneath her skin. She’s strong, stronger than she’s ever felt, and the exhaustion of flexing those muscles is nothing compared to power and knowing she has more than enough to reach back. “Let me in,” she whispers.

But at the edge of her mind, in the deepest, darkest corner, is a pull towards an endless ocean of black, and she’s falling into its power, unsure if she’ll be able to control it if she lets it take told. Yet, she’s ashamed that she craves it. She can hear it, every time she uses her powers, a voice, deep inside, clinging to her bones, and refusing to let go. 

If she’s afraid of anything, more than what her father threatens to do to the world, and more than Gar losing himself, it’s the sweet temptation of becoming the thing everyone else is afraid of, instead of being the one who’s always afraid. And that temptation grows stronger as she does.

It’s like a lifetime ago when she longed to be a normal teenager who went to school and watched cartoons on a Saturday. Now, caught in the web of her father’s plan, all she has time to do is feel the walls of this boundless darkness closing all around her, wearing her down with its wants and needs. 

The only thing keeping her above the surface and in control is the thought of her friends. Is Gar. He thinks the best of her, even after all he’s seen, and the thought of losing that is enough to tighten her grip when the whispers inside her become unbearably loud.

&&&&&

“Keep an eye on her until I get back,” Dick says. “Oh, and Kory – be careful.” He shoves the phone in his pocket and returns to the security screens Bruce pulled up. After Dick told him Angela was alive, he had to see it for himself, and there she was, on camera six, in a luxurious room, cuffed to the bed.

“I’ve seen stranger things,” Bruce says. “But it’s Angela, older of course, but-,”

Dick sighs, and relief should follow, but it’s quickly replaced with dread and confusion because if she did die, how she is back, and why? “If she died right after Rachel was born-,”

“Then how is she back?” Bruce trails off. “Lazarus pit,”

“You said the pit was just a myth,” Dick cries.

“I lied,” Bruce says with a tight jaw. 

Dick swallows hard, and decides, for the moment to ignore the implications of Bruce’s lie. “Did you see her body with your own eyes?” he asks, trying to rub the headache forming in his left temple away. “Was there even a funeral?”

“She was buried out in West Point,” Bruce says, “but she died in Detroit.”

Dick stills. “West Point?”

“Her father was military,” Bruce says. “Lieutenant. I remember because I offered to pay for the service. He’s dead now. Her mother, too.”

“Of course, you did,” Dick mutters, and he eyes the almost imperceptible twitch in Bruce’s cheek, and the faraway look in his eye. He didn’t like loose ends, but what he hated more than that was failing, and the fact that he never found Angela, or saved her, still haunted him. “Autopsy?”

“Unknown cause of death,” Bruce says, as he clicks out of the tower’s surveillance. “I got eyes on the body a few days after in the morgue, post autopsy. The mortician was a friend of mine, retired now, but I can load a copy of his findings to mainframe, so you’ll be able to access it on your own computer.” With a few clicks, the folders load to the secured server and Dick’s phone pings. “Do you need the helicopter back to the tower?”

“No,” Dick slips into Bruce’s chair when he stands up. “Thanks.” He taps on the keys, his finger sprinting across the board, and then the surveillance screens go black. Dick stands up. “I deactivated and reset the tower’s surveillance protocols, no more cam access.” He pushes his hands into his pockets. “If I need any more help-,”

“When you need help,” Bruce interjects.

Dick scoffs. “ _if_ I need help, I’ll call.” He says, slipping past Bruce, and heading for the doors. “but no more big brother."

Bruce follows on his heels, out of the cave. “Fair enough.”

“OK,” Dick says, and he’s relieved that so far, they’ve managed to avoid at least three arguments, because he knows Bruce could easily override any and all codes, at any given time. He was just hoping he could trust him not to. He’s still hoping. “I have to go.”

“If I find anything, any disruptions in space, anything similar to the patterns we found all over the data from Rachel’s attempt to open a portal at the Caulder House, and I’ll ping you the co-ordinates.”

“We’re running the same searches,” Dick huffs. “but obviously, we both know your satellite does more than it’s allowed to. Piggybacking off Nasa’s data stream.”

“We have a Superman.”

“Touché,” Dick stops, and turns to face Bruce. “It’s been good to see you, Bruce.”

Bruce smiles. “You, too.”

Dick nods. “OK,”

“Jason,” Bruce says as Dick turns to leave. “He has stuff to work out. He needs some guidance, perhaps from somebody who’s been through their paces and can better relate to him.”

Dick sighs.

“I’ve made a few mistakes in the past.” Bruce drops his gaze. “I don’t like repeating myself,”

Dick huffs out a breath and nods. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Short-term.”

Bruce smiles impressively, and uncharacteristically wide. “Of course.” Still so unfamiliar with not calling the shots, and Dick smiles, because honestly, it boosts him in sorts of unexpected ways.

&&&&&

Gar scoffs down his third scone, filled with strawberry jelly and clotted cream which, apparently is a massive thing in England, totally into all the stories the butler is sharing about his country in the 60s. “I love this, by the way, thank you.” He spits out crumbs as he speaks. “I can’t stop eating.”

“Alfie here loves a foodie,” Jason winks. “He moonlights as butler by day, but he’s a notorious feeder by night.”

“Help yourself to as much as you’d like,” Alfred smiles, gently sliding the plate of freshly baked scones towards the hungry teen with his finger. “And pay no mind to Master Jason here, he loves a good crack.”

Jason scoffs, pinching a buttered and jellied up scone from Gar’s plate.

“Hey,” Gar cries.

“I’m helping you, trust me,” Jason takes a big bite, and Gar tries not to punch him for it, instead snatching it back. But after a second bite, his stomach flips upside down, churning aggressively. “You okay, man?” Jason nudges him. “I told you, it’s a lot of dairy. You gotta go?”

“Oh dear,” Alfred says. “My apologies if the snacks have proven too rich,”

Gar swallows, and slowly slips off the stool. “No, it’s not that,” but saliva collects under his tongue nonetheless, and he has to clench his jaw not to hurl, as his stomach twists and turns like a greasy eel tying itself up in knots. “is there a bathroom?”

“Dude, there’s like twelve,” Jason boasts. “Go down the hall, turn left after Bruce’s ugly ass statue,” he says, quickly adding, “you’ll know when you see it,” before Gar can question him further about, “it’s the second door.”

Gar hurries down the hall, stumbling over his feet as the sensation in his stomach grows more intense, like he’s being tugged from his own body. He crashes into the bathroom and slams the door shut behind him, falling back against it. Then he moves to the sink, pouring himself over it, when he hears Rachel’s voice.

He splashes water over his face and neck, thinking he’s hearing things, but when he stands, he finds her in the mirror looking back at him. Flinching, he backs away, and turns to the door, but she’s there instead of an empty space. “Rach?” he whispers, gulping when he sees the bright purple glow around her. “Are you really here?” Ho-how are you doing this?”

“I’m still trying to get the hang of it,” Rachel laughs. “but I managed to leave my body and come find you.”

“Wha – how – how’d you find me?”

Rachel smiles. “It helps that you were thinking about me.”

Gar smiles timidly. “Are you okay? Should I get Dick? Are you hurt?” he breathes deep, and as Rachel moves a little closer, he wonders if he can touch her.

“I don’t know how much time I have like this, so I need you to listen to me. OK?”

Gar nods. “OK.”

"My dad is looking for something important, and I need you to find it first."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tiny little twists and turns, or as Hank put it, in real time horror movie plots twists are aplenty. Buckle up. But let me know what you think first? :)
> 
> There is one more chapter with Dick, Gar and Jason at the manor, and then it's back to the gang.


	11. One Two Many Robins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Bat. Man."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am missing Gar on Titans right now. I miss that angel!baby, so much.

“You’re not a monster, Gar.” Rachel cries. 

“Aren’t I?” Gar laughs bitterly. “I killed that man at the asylum. I turned into a frickin’ Gorilla – I mean, what else can I do?” he finally looks up at her. “What if I’m a danger to them?”

“Gar,” Rachel sighs, and he flinches as she reaches for him. But when he realize she can’t touch him, it hurts more than he thought the glow around her would, because it reminds him she’s not really there. “You have to tell Kory and Dick.”

“I can’t,” he says simply, like he’s talking about cancelling plans - and then he perks up, gathering himself in a big breath, to shed the weight of his burden, so he can be there for Rachel. Because she’s the one stuck with a powerful inter dimensional demon. “are you okay?” he asks, and swallows thickly, taking in the aura around her shaped like a bird with sharp wings. Yet, somehow, all his worries melt away because she’s there, and she’s okay, physically at least.

“Promise,” Rachel whispers. “I’m okay.”

“But how can you be-,” he stutters out, “when you’re with _him_?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel shakes her head. “I think, I’m meant to be here.”

“To do what?” Gar asks with an accusing tone.

“To stop him." She growls.

“So, if you could escape, you wouldn’t want to?”

“Of course, I want to,” Rachel takes a pause, “Gar, it’s not that easy. If I’m here, I can figure out what he’s doing, what he’s planning, and now I know I can come to you. This is how it has to be for now.”

“OK,” Gar says, “these seals he's breaking, how many left?”

“I think there are five,” Rachel stumbles, “or four,” she closes her eyes, taking a moment to think, “he’s broken all of them except one, because he can’t find it.”

Gar swallows, he’s almost too afraid to ask. 1“What is it?”

“I don’t know,”

“Are we – talking bible level apocalypse -,” Gar’s eyes bulge. “like actual hell, _here_ ,”

“Maybe,” she gulps. “or something worse, all I know is, it has something to do with me, it has to be.”

“Why?” 

“Because when I looked inside his head, I saw you, and Dick, and Kory,” she cries, “and my mom, and I saw a deer in the woods, and Adamson, and a mirror,” she pauses, “I don’t know what it means, but if he’s piecing together my memories, everything that’s happened since my mom died –“ her eyes grow. “Wait,”

“What?”

“Asa,” she says, and Gar twists his face with confusion, “he keeps asking for someone called Asa, and Bee says he’s a century old or something, and he can’t be summoned, but,”

“Wait, who’s Bee?”

“She’s another demon, old, but a different kind to my dad,” Rachel says, “she guards me or whatever, every time he disappears, I think to look for this Asa, maybe he is the final seal. So, that means, you have to find him first.” Her eyes are large and desperate, and full of tears, and his heart aches. “Gar, please, you have to tell Dick everything - about the seal, about Asa, and my dad. Everything. It’s taking all the power I have to keep him out of my head,” she drops her gaze. “To be here,”

“I’ll tell him everything,” Gar promises.

Rachel sighs. “I have to go.”

“Rachel,” Gar blurts her name, and when she turns, he sighs. “We’re going to get you back.”

She smiles. “I need you to promise me you’ll tell Kory and Dick about your powers, and the nightmares. please, Gar.”

He tilts his chin to the ground, and his chest tightens. “OK. I’ll tell them. Promise.” And with that, he feels her go, leaving him alone in the bathroom, as if he imagined it all. No goodbyes, just an empty room. He wonders how they’re supposed to find someone, or some _thing_ supposedly a century old before her supernatural father does, and what they’re supposed to do or say if and when they do? He has a sinking feeling, everything is all wrong, upside down and backwards and there is no way they can fix it. No way to win.

He clears his throat and turns back to the sink, spinning the faucet, and splashes water over his face, and then he looks up at himself, bracing himself to see a monster. A _thing_ with fangs stained in blood, thirsting for a hunt. His eyes flicker as he fights back tears, and as Angela’s words, whispered like a promise come circling back, “you’re an animal,” she’d said, “and you _will eat.”_

__

&&&&&

Dick strolls into the kitchen, “we have to go,” when he only finds Jason, he glances over his shoulder. “Where’s Gar?”

“He may or may not have eaten too many scones, I mean they have a lot of dates,” Jason laughs, licking jelly off the butter knife. “Until next time, Robin,” he says with a playful salute. 

Dick sighs, “Look, Jason. I know I wasn’t exactly open arms to you when we first met, but uh-,” 

“Nah, it’s cool,” Jason shrugs a nonchalant shoulder, but Dick sees the flex in his jawbone. “I’m good. Sure, Bruce needs me here anyway.” 

“Thing is,” Dick moves a little closer, lowering his voice, “I need your help.” 

Jason bites on a smile. “Really?” 

Dick huffs out a laugh, lightly squeezing Jason’s shoulder. “Yeah, really. I need all the help I can get, and I can see you and Gar are becoming good friends. He’s been going through a lot, but he responds well to you.” 

“Well, okay,” Jason hops off the stool. “bags stayed in the truck, so,” 

Dick’s smile falters at that, and the look on Jason’s face suddenly says more than he’d noticed before. Maybe he hadn’t been paying attention, and maybe he didn’t want to, selfishly, licking his wounds over being replaced, rather than recognizing the ones so clearly littering boy wonder 2.0. It was shitty of him to ice Jason out, he's just a boy, he sees that, but he’s finally seeing the kid more clearly now, than the suit. 

Jason had been pulled apart by his parents, and ended up with the drunkard, uncle Ray which eventually landed him in the system, where he easily could’ve landed if he didn’t have Clay and Bruce in his corner. He remembers even then, feeling completely lost, untethered, and angry, but at least he had a home. He had food, and warmth, and a bed, whereas Jason went from home to home until he was old enough to rough it alone. He’d gotten so used to moving from place to place, not putting down roots, that he never unpacked. Even now, after being with Bruce a year, and then coming to the tower, his bags remained in the truck, and Dick felt a familiar ache. 

Alfred emerges from the pantry with a container, steamed from the hot scones he packed, and slides across the counter. Dick smiles, catching it, and nods. “I’ll do better,” he says, “to stay in touch.”

Alfred simply nods, reminding him how easy it was, and still is because he was never expected to do or be anything for the old man to love him. 

Dick rounds the counter, “I’ve got to get to the airport, but,” he reaches for Alfred and the pair embrace briefly, and he remembers what it felt like to be in the kitchen with him, listening to stories about England. He loved helping Alfred in the kitchen, and did it unconsciously for the most part, but he never felt comfortable helping when Bruce was around, because then it was time for vigilante business, not cutting carrots and dicing turnips for Scotch broth. He pulls away. “Thanks for the scones.” 

Alfred pats Dick on the shoulder. “Safe trip, home, Master Grayson.” 

Dick nods and follows Jason out into the hall. Bruce heads towards them, his phone at his thigh and a tiny smile on his face, as he contemplates his new protégé. “Dick needs my help,” Jason offers, “and I said I would go, just for a while longer,” 

“Ah,” is all Bruce says, glancing at Dick. 

“Once it’s all good though,” Jason huffs out. “I’ll be right back.” 

Bruce nods. “Good.” 

Dick checks his watch. “If Gar isn’t out here in two minutes, I’m going looking-,” 

“I’m here, I’m here, coming,” Gar cries as he comes skidding down the hall with his backpack hanging from his elbow. “I had a-,” as he comes to a stop, his eyes bulge at the sight of Bruce standing between them. “You’re – you,” he breathes out, and Dick smirks, and Jason shakes his head when he glances at them. “This is – he’s,” 

“Bruce Wayne,” Bruce says, offering an amiable smile, as he stuffs his hands into his pockets. 

“Bat. Man.” Gar forces out. 

“OK,” Dick chuckles. “You met Batman,” he turns on his heel. “We have to go.” 

In the second it takes him to move one step forward, a flash of lightening whooshes past them, mussing Dick’s hair, and all the papers and letters collected on the foyer table standing in the centre of the room, see-sawing to the floor. Beyond the commotion settling behind him, stands The Flash. 

“Heh,” Barry clears his throat, “I’ve got to stop doing that,” he bends over then, collecting all the papers and sets them back on the table. 

Dick can’t help chuckling, first at Barry, and then Gar, who’s standing, frozen in position with his mouth agape. 

Barry turns back and points to Gar’s face, frozen in position, “and that,” 

“You. You’re. You,” Gar stutters. “Flash. The.” 

“Uh, it’s actually the other-,” a look from Dick flusters him and stops himself. “I like your hair,” Barry says, passing Gar to shake Dick’s hand. “It’s been a while,” he says. “you look a little younger. Where's Kor –,” baring his teeth, he laughs nervously, peering over him to glance at Bruce. “Timeline talk, again – which is completely off limits. Ignore me?” 

Dick sniggers, but before he can rebuttal, the door knocks, and Barry’s whooshing over, sending all the papers flying, again. 

“Don’t worry, Alfred,” Barry shouts. “I got it.” 

Dick turns to Bruce. “Is there something I should know?” 

Bruce cocks his head to the side. “Nothing we can’t handle,” he says. “Just Lex,” 

At Gar’s loud gasp, Dick turns back, and finds Diana and Clark at the door, waiting on the other side. They’re suited up, which makes Dick worry the teen could spontaneously combust at any given moment now.

But when he meets eyes with them, their smiles warming his chest, he’s drawn back to a time when he was a boy, ushered away from adult, superhero business. Deemed unready, and how he would sneak anyway, always caught by Diana who never told on him. He sighs, comforted by Diana’s warm, but telling smile, and he’s reminded how much he’s missed it, and her. 

Jason grins, nudging Gar as he moves to his side. “Superheroes, right?” he says, “Fuck, I am so tuned on right now.” 

“Dick,” Clark’s voice booms across the hall as he walks over, his suit adorned with the symbol of hope as he pulls him in for a brief, but strong hug. Nostalgia grips him like a boa around his chest. All the times he wanted Clark to take him away, to relieve him of the darkness that consumed him and Bruce both, came rushing back, a need to know what it felt like to feel the sun, and know it was there even if he couldn’t see it. That was what Superman meant to him. The sun. Hope. “I’m glad to see you here,” he pulls away, “in Gotham.” a pearly white smile. “Home.” 

“Visiting,” Dick corrects. 

Clark nods, and turns to Gar. “Hi, there.” 

Gar makes a long screeching noise, and Jason clamps on his jaw to keep himself from laughing. But Dick’s sure, his reaction was probably much of the same when he first met the heroes. Hell, Dick still gets a little excited when he sees them donning their ass kicking fits. 

“I’m sorry,” Dick taps Gar on the shoulder. “He means hi,” 

“That’s quite alright,” Clark says. “No harm, no foul,” he holds his hand out to Gar. “And you are?” 

“Um,” Gar rolls his eyes to the ceiling, as though trying to remember his own name. “Gar-fieeeld?” 

Clark raises a brow, “Are you asking me?” he laughs, good-naturedly. 

“Stop talking to him,” Jason teases, “I think he’s about to pass out,” but he too, reddens in the neck and chest, looking up at the broad chested, man of steel with pearly whites, perfect hair and his forever inspiration for leg day work outs. 

“Diana,” Dick smiles warmly, and he braces himself for a hug that always lasts a little long, making him miss the touch and embrace of his own mother. “it’s good to see you.” 

“And you,” she says, pulling back to contemplate him. “how are you, are you eating good, sleeping well,” she nips his chin, and he chuckles, the only other person who ever reminded him he was a son, was Selina, albeit she was less touchy, by a lot, but still, concerned and always on the ready with advice. Not that he could use much of it, what with her being a notorious criminal with a big heart hidden bemeath leather. 

"I’m good,” Dick sighs, glancing in Bruce’s direction as he engages in a whisper with Barry, knowing the older man well enough to know when he isn't being completely truthful, or managing his need for control. Maybe they have been planning a strike on Lex, but their timely appearance is not a coincidence, that much he knows. “I’m sure Bruce will fill you in,” 

“Don’t be a stranger,” Diana whispers, squeezing his hand. 

Dick steps back on his heel, burying his hands away. “I won’t.” 

“And tell Donna, she has a phone, as well as a camera.” Diana glares, and yet it isn’t a threat. “She should use it.” 

Dick presses his lips together, a smile teasing his mouth and nods. "We have to go." He presses his hand to Gar’s back and has to practically scrape him off the floor and out of the door. 

“I’ll walk you out.” Clark says. 

“Strap up,” Dick tells the boys, ushering them off the steps as Clark comes behind him. “Lex, huh?" 

“He’s been recruiting some super inclined outlaws for something,” Clark’s jaw hardens. “We don’t know for what yet, but as long as Lex is involved, it can’t be good.” After a sigh, he frowns, “but that’s not why we’re here,” 

Dick laughs, because he knows exactly why they’re there. “I figured.” 

“No matter how far away you go,” Clark says. “He’ll always care.” And Dick swallows. “I told him to wait,” he says, “I thought you might come back and be Robin again after things had cooled down.” He turns, watching Jason huddle into the truck, and then finally turns back to face Dick. “How does it feel watching the young man take over Robin?” 

Dick smiles solemnly. “Like I’m not Robin anymore.” 

“Do you want to be?” Clark asks. 

“No,” Dick looks up at him, and every time he says it, he becomes surer. “Not anymore.” 

Clark slaps his shoulder and smiles, charming, and warm. “Then I think it’s time for something new,” he says, “something better,” 

“Me too,” Dick says. 

“Diana said it already, but don’t be a stranger, it’s almost impossible to like him without you,” 

Dick huffs out a laugh, and then he nods. “OK.” 

“Something tells me, we’ll be seeing each other sooner than either of us thinks,” he nods at Dick, and waves at Gar, who melts against the window. 

Dick skips down the steps and climbs into the truck, holding his hand up to Clark before he disappears behind the door. He almost wishes he’d asked him to shoot off into the sky, just so Gar could see, but on second thought, he knows Kory would kill him if he didn’t bring the boy back exactly how he’d taken him. 

On the drive back, he thinks about the hope Superman represents, and it dawns on him, that maybe he wants that for the team back at the tower. Robin was a vigilante, seeking justice on the streets of Gotham by any means necessary, but that person isn’t him anymore. He wants more than that and he wants his friends to know, especially those in his charge, they don’t have to be defined by their beginnings, because there is hope in becoming something new and better. That in the end, even if they can’t choose what they are, if they’re with him, they get to choose who they want to be. 

He glances in the mirror at Gar, and frowns. The boy was melting like an ice cream, turning to a puddle in the Wayne Manor, like he’d been overloaded on candy, except was heroes, he’d overdosed on, less than an hour ago. He was practically buzzing with excitement, but now, in the rear mirror, he sees something else, casting a shadow over his usually bright eyes. Gotham isn’t much to look at, but for a kid who’s never been, seeing where Batman lives, where Bruce lives, he thought it would be just as thrilling. 

But the whole drive, he doesn’t look up from his lap once. Dick knows he’s been struggling since Rachel left with Trigon and adjusting to the evolution of his abilities at the same time. It’s more than any kid should be expected to deal with, and maybe he’s failed to support him the way he promised because he let other emergencies get in the way. 

So, when they pull up and Jason unloads the bags, Dick pulls Gar to the side. “Hey, you okay?” 

Gar swallows and shakes his head. 

“What is it?” 

“Rachel,” Gar begins. 

“We’re going to get her back,” Dick says, cupping his shoulder. 

“It all happened so fast,” Gar explains, and Dick's brows knit together. “I should’ve told you as soon as it happened,” he blurts out, “I was going to, but then The Flash whooshed in, and Superman was there, and Wonder Woman and my brain turned to mush.” 

“Gar, what?” 

“I saw her,” he confesses. “Rachel. I was in the bathroom and she like projected to me or something,” 

Dick’s chest tightens. “Was she okay, what did she say?” 

“She was fine,” Gar explains. “She said she needed to be there so she could help us send him back, she-,” he takes a breath. “she said her father is looking for a seal, said it may be the one thing stopping him from unleashing literal Hell. There were four of them, and he’s broken three but he can’t find the last one. She thinks the seal might be a person.” 

“How?” Dick asks. "How do we find this seal?" 

Gar lifts a shoulder to his ear. “I don’t know.” 

Dick heaves a heavy sigh and dials out on his phone. “There’s something I have to tell you – about Angela.” 

“Are we going or what?” Jason shouts across the roof of the truck. “Hello?” he sings, “We’re going to miss our flight.” 

“We're missing our flight,” Dick shouts back. “Hank? I need your help.” He sighs. “No, just you. I don’t want to arouse suspicion. Meet us at the airport.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a nightmare it was, trying to figure out which version of Justice League characters to use, and then figuring out timelines, and considering Bruce is old, how would I use Barry, and which Barry? Then if I used the film, they already had their version of Cyborg, but the films tone fit Titans – so I decided to go vague-ish. I have in mind who I am basing them off, but you can decide which versions you prefer to imagine, or I am happy to tell you if you want to know.


	12. Beneath a Scar, Lay a Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We got ourselves a Tiger."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long one!

“If I’d known Dick wanted me down here just so I could babysit you two pillow humpers, I would’ve told him where to stick it.” Hank folds his arms in, huffing out a cloud.

“We got this right, Gar?” Jason calls.

Gar shivers at the creaking gates as Hank and Jason huddle into the cemetery. They’re met with a deafening silence, a stillness unlike anything he’s ever felt, and it makes him restless for reasons he can’t quite pinpoint.

The trees, almost bare, crash into each other under the starless night sky as the wind howls, bustling through them. Shadows seems to move and change shape, forcing Gar to blink harder and shake the growing paranoia plucking at the hairs on his body. Lower down at the foot of the hill is the military base, and Dick is somewhere in that fortified building, alone, and he doesn’t like it. Not even a little bit. 

He never thought of these people he’d found in terms of losing or keeping them, but ever since Rachel left with her father, it’s the only frame of mind he can see them through. Scenarios run a course in his head about how he’d cope and what he’d do, and the way he lost his parents creeps in behind. Gar never got to visit their graves, and now he’s surrounded by headstones, and dirt, and bodies. And he knows he can’t do it again - lose people. 

So, Dick being alone, and Kory back at the tower with Angela, is enough to make him anxious, and upset, and a little pissy.

“Kid,” Hank’s voice cuts into his angst-ridden monologue. 

“What?” Gar growls, and then follows Hank, who is now looking at him with a contorted face as he leads them further into the grounds.

When Gar left Danny street, he was sad, but he was also a little relieved because he’d spent most of the time alone. Unless it was to eat, get his blood taken, answer questions on a tape or get scolded for sneaking out, he was by himself. He watched movies alone, played games alone, listened to music alone, and the thought of being around Rachel and her ‘not parents’ was the first time he realized, maybe he wasn’t doing so well alone anymore.

“Why can’t we be up there too, where it’s warm?” Jason cries. 

“Maybe because he’s the cop, dumb ass,” Hank spits.

“Shut up,” Jason rolls his eyes.

“Both of you, shut up,” Gar hears himself say, and sobers as Hank turns to him, glowering eyes meeting his. 

“ _Excuse me_?” 

He was sheltered and he enjoyed their company, but he didn’t need them, and up until the moment Rachel disappeared into a black hole, he hadn’t realized he did need her, he needed all of them.

Gar swallows. “Look, let’s just find it and get out of here,” he says, ruefully, as he carefully moves around Hank and out of his reach, taking the lead and leaving them behind.

“Ugh,” Hank shudders out against the cold. “I hate this place.”

And Gar glances at the names and dates on the stones, picturing their lives; wondering if any of them were made orphans like him, and how they turned out. If any of them struggled to figure out who or what they were meant to do with their lives, and if they ever did. 

Rachel’s right, he has to tell Dick and Kory about this development in his abilities, but in the grand scheme of things, it feels selfish. Or maybe he’s just terrified of the look they’ll give him, because Tiger was strange and cool, but this is – he doesn’t know what it is, what he is, only that he isn’t entirely sure he’s in control all the time. 

“You know it’s bad luck to walk over a grave,” Jason offers in the cold silence.

“I would love to say that’s stupid superstitious shit, but we got a demon on the loose, so,” he says bitterly.

“Dick said he can get into our heads,” Jason says. “and put fucked up shit in there,”

Gar lets out a shaky breath and clenches his fists at Jason’s words when the man in the white coat visits him between blinks. He remembers how this strange sensation took him over so slowly, he couldn’t feel what was happening untio he was almost drowning in it – the way the air stilled, trapping him in place, and his skin warmed as though he was stood beside a fire. Then it was the sickening twist in his stomach and numbness in his face, like he’d been strapped down so he wouldn’t miss the horror show promising to haunt him. And now all those sensations are back, awakening dread in the pit of his stomach. 

Something in the atmosphere has changed, and he doesn’t know if it’s the cold of the night air shifting to dry, brittle gusts, or his paranoid abilities sensing things that aren’t there, but he can’t shake the feeling, as his hairs spike, that they’re being watched. 

“Check this out,” Jason calls, pointing at perfectly manicured aisle of graves. “looks like uniform extends to the grave.” He says. “These stones are all in alphabetical order.”

“Hah,” Hank pushes the comm deeper into his ear. “You hear that, circus boy,” he says, “stand by, we got one corpse or an empty box coming up.”

&&&&

Dick taps his finger against the desk, waiting on the promised ranking office to come and see him. He’s been waiting a while, long enough that it crosses his mind Trigon could have followers here, too, if he has them in the church and police department. Instead, he counters his paranoia with a few logical reasons so much time has passed, the main one being, it was fourteen years ago. Anyone around during that time could’ve passed, been transferred out, promoted or retired by now.

He glances around the plain room. It reminds him of the one he first interviewed Rachel in. She’d asked for his help, but he was too daunted by the little voice warning him what she said could be true, that he rejected it, and now he was in a room similar, hoping whoever came through those doors could help him. Clenching his jaw, he swallows, and shifts back into his chair, pulling his shoulders back before glancing at his watch a third time.

Up over Dick’s shoulder, he notices the tiny flashing camera in the corner of the room when the door swings open, finally. Dick snaps back, and then stands to greet the older man on the other side as he enters. 

Half his face is buried in white fuzz, though the top of his head is almost bald. He has a big, square body, and dark eyes, the kind of eyes Dick recognizes well.

“Detective Grayson,” he stretches out his hand.

“Lieutenant Booth,” He takes Dick hands, firmly, and shakes it once. “Leonard,” He’s old, but his form remains strong, and his movements sharp as he steps back and folds his arms behind him, and Dick doesn’t fail to notice the door remained open. “I understand you’re looking for information about former Sergeant Roth and his daughter, Angela.”

“Roth?” Dick’s brows meet.

“There is no Aza-roth, nor is there any record of an Aza-roth,” Booth says. “It is Roth. I figured it was my officer who misheard the name,”

“Uh,” Dick nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, I’m here to tell you, you wasted a trip down here, son.” Booth folds his shoulders backwards, expanding his chest briefly, as though to display his size, and then pins Dick where he stands with a glassy stare. “I can’t give you that information, or any information about any of the men or women here, past or present.” Flashing a stiff and disingenuous smile, he offers, “you’re welcome back during the day, take the tour, have a look around-,”

“Sir,” Dick sighs. “Lieutenant – this is very important.”

“Doesn’t change a thing,” Booth says, with a nonchalant shrug of his face. “I’m sorry,” and with that, he turns to the side, making room for Dick to leave.

“Angela’s daughter is in danger,” Dick says, his voice breaking with desperation and growing vexation. The lieutenant freezes at that, and when he finally looks up, there lingers something else in the man’s eyes, less aloof, and more possessed.

“Her daughter’s alive?” Booth swipes his tongue across his lips and glances up at the camera. After a pause, he holds his hand up to Dick and backs out of the room, pulling it closed behind him. Now Dick’s mind is racing with the other less logical but completely plausible scenarios in the context of Trigon. He considers trying to leave quietly and slip out or alerting the others on his comms but it’s the slimmest chance that he could get the information he needs, that keeps him planted in the chair. The tiny what/if he just a man that wields him enough willpower to keep his cool and wait for it to play out.

Dick huffs out a breath and turns back the camera in time to see the flashing light die, and after several more moments the door opens again, and Booth steps in. This time though, the military man is seemingly gone, replaced with a softer man. The steely look and the hard shoulders have faded, and now Dick can see his true age around his crinkled eyes, weather battered skin and softened posture as he pulls up a chair.

“Please,” Booth holds his hand out across the table. “Sit,” his voice softer, he offers a smile that’s less detached. “What’s her name?”

Dick finally sits. “Rachel.”

Booth’s smile grows warmer and Dick settles, the tension from his body slowly draining when he decides, this is just a man. “After her mother,” he breathes out a chuckle. “So, something good did come out of all that horror.”

Dick half-smiles, wondering if Rachel knows where her name comes from, if Melissa even knew, but he packs it away for another time. “What horror?” He asks, and when Booth says nothing, instead looking down at the table as though he wanted to burn a hole through it, Dick clenches his fist under the table to stow away the impatience rising in him. “Rachel showed up at my precinct in Detroit over a month ago looking for help, but she went missing before I could get her to safety…” still nothing. “Her foster mother was executed in front of her.”

Booth snaps his head up. He’s back in the room.

“The people after her,” Dick continues, “they’re the type who cut your heart out for ritualistic sacrifices,” he reveals. “It’s what they tried to do to her before she escaped. She’s fourteen. So, anything you could tell me about Angela, her father, any friends or boyfriends she had could help, maybe even save Rachel’s life.”

Booth sighs. “Do you have any children, detective?”

Dick swallows and shakes his head. “No.”

“Good,” Booth says bitterly. “you should probably keep it that way,” he leans into his chair and away from Dick. “You see, as a father, it’s your job to protect them, to keep your family safe,” his eyes drift away. “and you do your best to protect them from the smallest of harm. A finger in the door, a scraped knee from falling off a bite,” he laughs mirthlessly. “a shitty boyfriend,” with a sigh, he glances up. “but no one tells you about the times when it ends up being them doing the harming, no one warns you that they can hurt you.”

Dick leans forward, freeing his notebook from his back pocket. “Can you tell me anything about what happened to Angela fourteen years ago?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Booth cries. “Not really.” He scrubs both hands over his face. “He kept going out and dragging her back,” he says finally, drumming his thick thumb against the table, and Dick sees the growing unease settle on his face and spread through his body, he sees the pain he has talking about it, and thinking about it again. He recognizes trauma well, a little too well, and he sees it pouring out of Booth’s face, making him tense up a little in anticipation of what is going to come out of his mouth next. “Roth and I were close; we came up in the ranks together. Both of us men of God, of family, and serving this country, but he was mostly private. He was a broad strokes kind of man and I appreciated that.” He huffs through his nose long, and hard, pushing his shoulders back. “What I do know is, Angela wasn’t an easy child, from an early age she was a problem. Difficult.”

Dick feels his heart sink and his skin grow warm because there are certain words he recognizes after being a Detective for as long as he has, words that typically expose rather than disguise abuse.

“She was always a very deep feeling girl,” Booth frowns, and Dick doesn’t know if he’s seeing confusion or empathy, “always sad and withdrawn, so she couldn’t make friends. She had one of those mental afflictions.”

Clenching his jaw, Dick taps his pen against the pad. “You mean depression,” and when Booth nods, he has to swallow the anger, making a fist underneath the table instead.

He has seen so many young people come through the precinct, children and teenagers in need of help, in need of someone, anyone to see their pain, whether it was abuse, addiction, depression or neglect. The other detectives always sent the broken his way, and at first it offended him because he it took as a slight against his skills as a cop; they didn’t take him serious enough to get the gritty cases, he thought, but then he realized, they were the gritty cases, and he had a stronger stomach than most of the cops in that entire building. After a while, he came to need those cases. He needed to make it right for them, whatever was wrong. To make sure they didn’t leave feeling no one had seen or heard them because no one cared. They weren’t invisible, not to him. Never to him. 

“Asshole,” Hank growls over the comms and it draws Dick back into the room.

“Yeah, whatever that is, I guess,” he says. “all she needed was a closer relationship with God, but instead she got in with a group of messed up kids,” he breathes. “started running around with them, then it was anti-war this and anti-war that.” Biting into his lip, he shakes his head. “Before you know, she’s joined some new age church,” he huffs, “a cult more like,” and he points accusingly at Dick. “You ask me, they were a bunch of hippies messing with things that ought not to be messed with,”

“Do you remember any of their names?” Dick asks. “Name of the church,”

“No,” he groans. “Origins or something,” he waves dismissively. “They weren’t no church, they’re kind of worship was sinister and -,” 

“Satanic,” Dick mutters as he writes down bywords to better store the information to memory. Booth nods. “You said Sergeant Roth _kept_ bringing her back home. Was he ever aggressive towards Angela – physically or mentally, that you know of?”

Booth straightens up in his chair and the steel glare returns to his eyes. “He loved his daughter, detective. He loved her more than anything, but he couldn’t get through to her.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Dick drops the pen on the pad and flexes his fingers when he’s met with silence. “I’m trying to establish Angela’s emotional state,” he explains.

“Well, it wasn’t him who was the problem, it was those friends of hers,” Booth growls. “After she took up with them,” a breath. “She ran away from home more times than I’ve had hot dinners, and Roth, he just kept going out there, rain or shine to bring her back home.” He shakes his head. “Until one day, he didn’t.” 

Dick writes down Rachel’s name.

“He didn’t go out there again, said she’d shamed them – the family and the church, and I knew what that meant.”

“She was pregnant.” Dick deduces, underlining Rachel's name.

He nods. “That’s right. After that everything turned upside down.” He says. “Months later she comes running here with a baby in her arms looking for her daddy, but it was too late for all of that.”

“Why?” Dick asks, writing: Dad missing?

“His wife, Angela’s mother died weeks before she showed up. His sister and her husband a week or so after that,” he frowns, “some mysterious illness he said.” He clucks his tongue. “Roth went off the grid after that. I tried to get Angela to stay, but she slipped away, and uh, soon after, her body showed up.” Booth visibly shudders at the memory. “she was just a kid, you know. But the look on her face. It bothers me even now, I can still see it. Such peace. The day of her funeral was the last time I saw him, now I think about it, probably why he buried her next to Lady of Peace.”

Dick raises an eyebrow. “Peace,” he says.

“Maybe because it was finally over,” Booth offers. “But I remember thinking, how can she look like that with a hole in her chest. The coroner said her heart just stopped, but-,”

Dick swallows and leans forward. “A hole?”

Booth breezes out a breath. “It’s like you said, those sick bastard cults believers must have sacrificed her or something, I mean, it all makes sense.”

Dick feels the back of his neck heat up. “So, her heart, or part of it was missing,”

“No, thank God,” Booth cries. “Everything but her baby was accounted for.”

“Hmm,” Dick hums. “And where’s Sergeant Roth now?”

“Dead,” Booth says with a tight jaw. “Died a few days after her,” he blows a hard breath out, and it’s the first bit of emotion Dick sees escape as his eyes shine. “Never seen anything like it,” he mutters. “it was biblical.”

“How so?”

“All his organs had liquefied,” Booth exclaims. “even his eyeballs.” He reaches up and scratches the balding area of his head. “We investigated, of course. Discovered his cabin out in Broad Channel by the waterfront,” he’s nodding to himself, “it was clear after what we found there that he’d gone completely off the reservation looking into his wife’s death.” He takes a pause and Dick doesn’t fill it. “he had unsightly pictures pinned all over the walls, and scripture and a whole load of satanical mumbo jumbo. I think the death of his wife – his family sent him over the edge.”

“Do you know what killed him?”

“We thought it could’ve been something chemical or biological that did it, thought it might have even been poison, but we found not a single trace of any substance anywhere in his body.” he clears his throat. “Truth is, we don’t know what killed him. Roth was a God-fearing man, a good man. Said she’d joined the cult to spite him, but she was just a girl way in over her head, and somehow it turned into a horror movie.”

Dick processes the information as quickly as he can, moving all the pieces around to form a timeline around Angela’s life. “The night she came here looking for her father, did she say anything?”

Booth stills, taking a moment to consider it. “She just kept asking for her dad, wanted us to get him here,” he scrubs his chin. “the rest I couldn’t make out, it wasn’t English, I know that much.” He laughs, “it was fourteen years ago, but there was a word that stuck, it was,” he bites the inside of his cheek. “Morse Veniece, or something, Venice Morose,”

“Venit mors,” Dick corrects.

“Yes, that was it, I think,” Booth confirms. “That’s no English I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s Latin,” Dick closes his notepad.

“All I know is, whatever she thought was coming after her wasn’t real, it was those stupid kids and her illness playing tricks,”

Dick huffs out an incredulous laugh. “As a Christian man, don’t you have to believe in the devil?”

Booth laughs. “Do I believe a thing with horns and a tail is real? No,” he sings. “We all have the choice to do good in this world or do evil. The devil is only alive in those who choose to walk the path of sin. He’s a metaphor for evil doers.”

“Is God a metaphor, too?” Dick stands up and pushes his notepad into his back pocket.

Booth cries, “of course not,” and stands, too.

Smirking, Dick, shakes the Lieutenant’s hand. “Thank you for your help, sir.” Rounding the desk, he steps out into the hall.

“Would you let me know if you find her? It’d be nice to get a bit of good news, especially after what that family went through.”

Dick nods. “Uh, so you never heard the name Azarath?”

Booth shakes his head. “Never.”

“Thanks.” Dick waits for Booth to take off in the opposite direction before he starts walking. “Did you get that?”

“The fucked-up shit or the location of Angela _Roth_?” Hank says. “We found the creepy statue or peace or whatever. The box was empty, which isn’t fucked up at all. So, the question is, how the fuck is she back, and why?”

“I have a theory, but we have to get back to the tower first.” Dick says as he leaves the building and steps out into the night. He knew the moment Booth started talking that she wasn’t in that grave, it became clear to him that Trigon was not finished with Angela, although it’s obvious now that it’s what he wanted them to think. But more than that, whether Angela knew it or not, there was a plan for her from the beginning. Being the child of military man of God, a man in a position of authority, made for a self-righteous bully in pursuit of molding Angela in his image. But all he managed to do was isolate her from himself and God, and it made her the perfect target for a group of believers. 

Hank had the right questions, but the how didn’t matter to Dick as much as the why. Why Angela being here now felt lke the answer to banishing Trigon, he didn’t know yet, but he felt all the pieces desperately trying to connect him to that conclusion. Maybe Angela had taken the name Azarath to evade him or she was given the name once she was captured to be evaded, but one thing he knew for sure; Angela fourteen years ago was not as on board as the Angela now. He didn’t need google translate to understand the words of a language he learned when he was fourteen: death is coming.

Venit mors told him two things about what happened fourteen years ago: One, death came for Angela, and two, she knew before it happened that it would.

&&&&

Angela rattles her cuffs against the bedpost until her wrist rubs raw. But at least it takes away from the desperate inducing pain of her stub – that and watching Dawn when she’s cleaning it up until she squirms.

With the little time she’s been around the soft-spoken, gentle woman, she’s noticed two things; one was that Dawn was a caretaker, and two, was that it was need more than a want. A need to be something over something else, and she senses that something else is more restless than Dawn presents, restless, and dark and needy. It’s gnawing at her and it’s taking all her energy to disguise the fight she’s in with herself. 

It’s no shock to Angela because the first thing she learned was everyone in this tower is wearing a mask to disguise who they really are, if they even know, but with Dawn it’s interesting, not because it’s largely gone unnoticed by her teammates. They’re all spinning out, all too stuck in their own heads, and their own traumas to recognize they’re all on the same sinking boat.

No, what’s interesting is how tirelessly she’s working to make sure everyone is okay, because she is not. She is so far from okay, shadows creep beneath her eyes, her teeth pluck absentmindedly at her cuticles and her foot taps to no song, all the time, and Angela loves it.

She loves to watch Dawn’s eyes go dark when no one is watching, drifting towards whatever dark thing is inside her, demanding to be felt. How she works to put out fires when she secretly wishes to watch it all burn, and smiles when she wants to bite, touches gently when she wants to destroy something with those soft hands.

Angela knows from experiences that niceties in public, usually mean a simmering rage followed by an explosion of violence in private, only Dawn has better handle on herself, than her father did. 

She manages to tease the bandage loose, rubbing it against the bedpost and winces as it burns, sending a sharp electrical heat right through the center of her body. A smile follows, the agony is worth it, because something awful is alive in Dawn and if she gets even half a chance to tease it to the surface – oh how glorious that will be.

The door swings open and she turns, her smile fading when she finds Kory standing in front of her instead. 

“What?” her arms are folded over her chest.

“My bandages came loose,” Angela explains, swinging her stub in the air and hoping it makes her as uncomfortable as it makes Hank. Such a big guy with a bigger heart, or just a squirmy fucker, she can’t decide if she cares which. “Dawn wrapped it up real good last time. I was wondering -,”

“No.” Kory pushes the door and rounds the bed to retrieve the first aid box from the bedside table. 

“Are you sure?” Angela whispers. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“Shut it,” Kory sits down beside her and lifts her arm, “what are you smiling at?” she asks without glancing up.

“Nothing, just-,” she shrugs. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me,” she sighs. “I thought you may still be feeling guilty for trying to kill my daughter,” and when Kory pauses and glares up at her, she swallows. “I had to rub ointment on it. She couldn’t stop crying about how much it hurt.”

Kory breathes out slowly, swiping her tongue across her lower lip, and then she returns her attention to the arm, peeling away the loosened gauze. “After what you did right after, you should be grateful you’re still alive,” she bites, “and don’t pretend you care about her; it pisses me off.”

“She’s _my_ daughter,” Angela cries. “I do care,” and the tears fall. “I wish I could go back and make different choices but -,” she sniffles, and after a drawn-out silence and the disgust on Kory’s face, she laughs. “I’m sorry. I can’t,” rubbing her face dry against her shoulder, she regains composure.

Kory chuckles bitterly. “It’s good – the act,” she carefully cuts away the sticky part of gauze and then unwinds a clean bandage around the stub. “but no matter how hard you try to deny it, you’re still human, and he’s not. The two of you are not the same.”

“Neither are you,” Angela counters, leaning forward. “Human, I mean,” she smiles. “Maybe that means you’re more like him than I am.”

Kory drops her arm and stands. “You’re going to have to try a lot harder.”

“Okay,” Angela shifts herself back, moving up the bed to sit straighter. “You tried to kill Rachel for a reason, and that reason is still valid, so I guess I’m just wondering how you’re doing with that – trying to pretend what you came here to do isn’t important anymore. Maybe you’re trying to make up for almost killing her by saving her, but why?”

Kory crosses her arms. “You’re going to tell me, so get on with it.”

“It’s not love for Rachel driving you, it’s guilt. I tried to figure out why you would feel guilty,” she sniffles. “You’re the good guy in this story, right, you want to save the world, you want to save all worlds, but you’re going against that to save her instead.”

“She’s a child.” Kory says. “She still has a choice.”

“The Raven isn’t a child, Kory.” Angela whispers. “it’s something old, and powerful, and dark.”

Kory smirks. “Isn’t that what you want Angela, isn’t what all of this has been about for you, unleashing the darkness onto everyone?”

Angela’s smile grows. “I got it.” She boasts. “It’s because of _him <\i>, isn’t it? Robin or is it Dick to you?” She continues, “I can see why,” she bites into her lip. “He has these soft wounded puppy eyes, but they’re also dark. I understand that pull. There’s something sexy about a man capable of the kind of violence Dick is capable of, am I right?”_

__

__

Kory tilts her head, but her smile remains, and Angela can’t see the cracks though she is looking closely for the twitch in the eye, or the trembling chin. She clenches her fist, wanting nothing more than wipe the smile away, and the longer it takes, the warmer her skin gets.

“But,” Angela adds. “I hate to be the one to break it to you – the man has a lot of issues,” she whistles. “clearly too many to ever entertain the kind of meaningful relationship with you that you want. Ask Dawn,”

Kory laughs then, her eyes bright as ever. “Better,” she shrugs. “ _Not quite_ hitting the spot though.” She walks around the bed to stand beside the door. “If you really wanted to get under my skin, you could’ve talked about my sister. I mean, I have a lot of family issues, but I guess you don’t know enough to dig.” She narrows her eyes. “You only know what Trigon told you, right?”

Angela shifts, spreading her fingers to stop from scratching her skin off its bones because her blood is boiling so hot.

“Makes sense,” Kory continues. “He was in Dick’s head and so was I. Guess he caught glimpses.” Sighing, “is this what you did to Gar,” she frowns. “is this why he’s afraid to look at you?”

Angela clenches her jaw so tight; her teeth threaten to shatter.

 

“You think there’s prey here, in this tower, _in this room_ , but if that’s the case, it means there’s also a predator,” Kory moves closer. “My mother once told me, the only way for prey to survive in the wild surrounded by its predators, is to figure out what it is before they do.” 

Angela cracks a mirthless grin. "You got me." she teases.

Kory moves closer, leaning over the bed so that they’re face to face, and her eyes glow bright with green fire. “If you talk to Gar again – if you even look at him from the corner of your eye. I will light you up until there is nothing left.” Leaning back, she brings a flame to her palm that flickers close to skin. “Do you understand me?” Angela swallows and Kory’s eyes fade as she offers a cheery smile. “Bang on the wall if you get hungry.”

&&&&

“Of course, it was fucking empty,” Hank swipes his dirt smeared hand across his face to scratch an itch.

It’s the rustling of the bushes in the distance that catches Gar’s attention, and the spine-chilling cold, slipping beneath his layers to pimple his skin. He tries to ignore the pulse inside his rib cage, also hammering at his temples as he treads the vibrating and unsteady ground. Roth is etched into stone and he does a double take as Hank scrapes the last of the dirt over Angela’s grave, while Jason pats it flat with his boot.

“Guys,” Gar turns in a circle, surveying the neighboring graves and all he sees is the name Roth. They’re all Roths. Her father. Her mother. Her aunt. Her cousin. Her Grandfather. “Her entire family’s dead.” he cries, and they join him, searching, too. Gar shifts back when he feels a faint tremble in the ground shoot up his body.

“Alright, let’s go, nerds,” Hank starts walking.

“Who are you calling nerd, dickless Ken doll?”

Hank scoffs. “That’s original. What are you in 9th grade?”

Gar watches as the ground beneath him shifts and rolls, a pulse of energy waving under his feet across the entire site. “Uh, guys,” he whispers.

“I’m not a nerd,” Jason argues.

Hank laughs. “So, calling you a pillow humper is fine, but nerd is where you draw the line?”

“Guys,” Gar shouts. “Am I seeing things, or all the graves – moving?” his eyes widen, and the breaking of dirt answers his question. There’s a simultaneous muffled crack. Hands shoot up and claw away at the dirt, and Gar stumbles back onto Hank’s foot.

“What the fuck?” Hank’s eyes widen.

Dick’s voice breaks through the comms. “What – breaking up – can’t hear – what?”

“The fucking ground is moving,” Hank bellows. “This is some night of the living dead bullshit,”

“Why the fuck are we watching?” Jason cries. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,”

“We can take them,” Hank growls, as a dozen of them drag themselves out of their graves, one after the other. Their skin spoiled and slipping away from bone, their hair wispy and thin, and their eyes lifeless.

“What?” Jason and Gar echo.

“No,” Dick asserts. “This – Trigon. Meet – Point now.”

“We’ll be fine, bird boy,” Hank smiles at Gar, and winks. “We got ourselves a Tiger.”

&&&&

Dawn watches Kory across the kitchen island as she rustles through her book at the table. She’s read it over and over again, but since she left Angela, she seems more restless. She knows that feeling well because each time she’s gone in there to refit Angela’s dressing, her skin crawls, and maybe it’s because being close makes her cold, or maybe it’s the way she feels her eyes on her every move.

She knows Angela is trying to rattle her, it’s in the eyes, and the smile, smug, like she knows something the rest of them don’t. But after every visit with her, she hits the meditation room to get back whatever it is, Angela is stealing whenever they’re forced together. 

“Kory are you okay?” she finally asks when Kory slides the book away. 

Kory clenches her jaw and swallows. “No,” she says. “We need something else, anything else and I can’t find it,”

“Maybe give it a break,” Dawn says. “Come back later with fresh eyes,”

“Ten more minutes,” Kory flips it upside down and opens it again.

“Did Angela say something to you?”

“She said a lot of things, mostly about herself.” Kory sighs into the words. “Something is off,” she looks up at Dawn. “ _She’s_ off. I think she said something to Gar, too,” Kory snarls. “She’s getting to Donna just by breathing on her.” she pauses, glancing down at the book, and Dawn senses a lingering question. “Has she said anything to you?” and that wasn’t it.

Dawn shakes her head, but it does leave her wondering what Angela could've said to Hank earlier. Ever since he'd left the room, he'd been - different - contemplative, maybe. “No.”

“Well, keep your head when you go in there,” Kory says. 

The elevator doors ping open and a raucous spills out, but before Dawn can think to move, Kory is out of her chair, and it’s only as she follows her out of the kitchen and sees Gar that she realizes why she moved so quickly. He’s folding into his right side and has a fading black eye. Not to mention, Dick’s pissed, Hank’s pissed, and Jason looks ready to back flip off a wall from adrenaline.

“Pull your panties out of your ass,” Hank says. “I had them.” 

“You compromised us,” Dick chastises. 

“What happened?” Kory rushes to Gar’s side and lifts his chin with her finger to get a closer look. “Look at me,” she says, “are you okay,” and he nods, but Kory isn’t satisfied, and starts moving his clothes up and out of the way to see the fading black bruise up his side. “What the fuck happened?”

“Gar -,” Dick starts.

“We got jumped by some freaks,” Hank interjects. “Gar took a fall – into some concrete,” he adds sheepishly as Kory glares at him, which is more decency than he's shown Dick.

“It was fucking insane,” Jason cries. “Hank bowled through like five of them dead fucks like,” he makes a fist and punches the air. “Blam!” he laughs. “Then Gar turns into a fucking Lion, and starts throwing them all over the place,” he shakes his head with incredulity. “A Lion. It was fucking awesome.”

“I’m okay, Kory, really,” Gar gently pushes her hand away.

“That’s not the point,” Dick growls. “and it wasn’t awesome. We were on a fucking military base, and Gar got hurt because you didn’t fall back when I told you to. If we’re going work together, we need to have each other’s back. We have to trust each other.”

“Are you deaf?” Hank growls. “I said we were surrounded.”

“Were you?” Dick chides. “I told you to fall back. You had time. I said it was Trigon, but you didn’t listen,” he shakes his head. “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse than a few bruises,”

“If you really care about the kid, why was he out there in the first place?” Hank goads.

Dick takes a sharp breath and clenches his fists. “You ignored me because you’re childish fucking baby with anger problems,”

“Oh, is that right?” Hank steps into Dick’s space.

“Stop it, Hank,” Dawn shouts.

“Of fucking course, he’s right and I’m wrong,” Hank laughs. “Right, Dawn?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Donna strolls down the hall to join them. “Let’s stop there before someone says something they can’t walk back,” she glances at Hank and he rolls his eyes, and Dawn’s heart starts to pump hard and fast, because she can see them escalating. 

“I left them with you,” Dick says firmly, “and you put them at risk because you were looking for a fight. You’re always looking for a fight.”

“We’re not fucking kids,” Jason interjects.

“It doesn’t matter,” Dick argues. “Hank was in charge,” he looks at him. “I asked you for help, but I guess you hate me so it didn’t matter to you,”

“Dick,” Donna says.

“I don’t hate you, Dick,” Hank says matter of fact. “I just can’t stand your mightier than thou bullshit.” He throws his arms in the air. “You want to lead, fine. You want to be Robin, or you don’t want to be Robin. _fine_. You want to be a team. You want to work alone. It’s all fine by me, man. You take what you want when you want it, but you’re not having my girl. You got that.”

“Hank,” Dawn cries.

“What?” Dick stutters out, his brow knitting together in confusion. “Hank I don’t-,” he glances at Dawn. “that’s all history, has been for a long time.”

Hank swallows and his face and neck turn red. “You waltz around like the world owes you something, like _Bruce_ , and the suit, and _every-one_ owes you something, but the truth is, no one owes you a damn thing, Dick.”

“You’re one to talk,” Dick bites. “You’ve been dying for a fight ever since I showed up with Rachel. Everyone walks on eggshells, waiting for you to explode because you spend all day, every day angry at everyone but yourself, I guess it’s easier to make it about me and Dawn, but we all know it’s all about you,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hank cries.

“Means I’m not the only one with issues,” Dick says.

“Don’t make this about me,” Hank cries. “I’m sorry Gar got hurt, but if you wanted him safe, you should’ve made him stay in the tower, that's what a leader would’ve done,”

Dawn shuffles back a little when she notices Gar turning green. His teeth descend, sharp and tinged with blood and his eyes glow bright, as he sprouts hair. 

“Stop,” Gar growls, his palms dripping with blood as he makes tight fists.

And everyone does.

Everyone stops and looks at him, and he’s breathing so hard, she can practically see his heart coming out of his chest. Kory reaches for him, and that’s when the young, innocent face they know comes back, and for a moment, it’s like he’s just woken up from a nap, until he realizes he hasn’t.

“Gar,” Kory reaches for him again, but this time he flinches, glancing at all them ruefully, looking ashamed and afraid before he takes off running down the hall.

“I’ll go.” Jason says as Kory makes a move to follow.

Kory sighs heavily, “you know what, I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, it was obviously before my time, and I don’t care,” she looks between Dick and Hank. “Rachel is gone. Gar is hurting, we have a demon to stop and the two of you are comparing dicks.”

“Kory,” Dick says her name softly, ready to explain.

“Whatever it is,” she interrupts. “It’s going to have to wait. Do you hear me?” She glances at Hank and he responds with a fraction of a nod, and then she looks at Dick and he nods, too. Her eyes flit up at Dawn and briefly before she follows behind Jason, and Donna follows behind her.

“Hank,” Dawn whispers.

“Not now, Dawn.” Hank bellows, as he storms away.

“Sorry,” Dawn cries as she passes Dick and chases after him.

&&&&

Jason jogs down the hall and stops outside the soundproof meditation room where he saw Gar beeline, but the room that’s usually filled with blue light is pitch black. “Gar?” he flicks it on, and finds Gar pacing fast, up and down, like some nutjob talking to himself. “Look, dude, just calm down, alright,”

“I’m trying,” Gar cries, scrubbing his hand across his forehead. “I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

“Hey,” Jason takes a step closer. “Calm down,”

Gar stops pacing for a moment and squeezes his head between both hands. “I feel like I’m going crazy, or something,” and the tears escape, running down his face. “I can hear everything, and smell everything, and feel every – it’s like everything wants to come out at once,” he whispers. “and I don’t know what to do,”

“If you keep thinking like that, it’s only a matter of time, right?” Jason takes another step. “So, uh, why not lose control now.” 

“What?” Gar sniffles and wipes the wet from his nose.

“Let go,” Jason says simply with a nonchalant shrug. “Turn.”

“No,” Gar shakes his head vigorously, and begins pacing again. “I can’t.”

“You have to, man,” Jason insists “it’s driving you nuts,” and mutters. “it’s driving me nuts.”

“I can’t.”

“Oh,” Jason laughs. “So, first you had no choice, but now you can’t?”

“You don’t understand,”

“Of course, I don’t fucking understand, I’m not a tiger,” Jason shoves him. “Now fucking turn, you monster.”

Gar’s eyes grow and he scrunches his mouth up, tears shining anew. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” Jason goads, pushing him again, a little harder. “I want to see what out of control looks like,” he pushes him again. “I want to see what your worst is, come on, man,” push, “show me,” 

“I could hurt you.” Gar warms as he stumbles back.

“Then do it,” Jason provokes.

“I know what you’re doing,” Gar steps back, putting space between the two. “and I’m begging you, just stop.”

“I knew it,” Jason pushes Gar and slams into the wall, knocking over a tall blue lamp, leaving part of his face in the dark. “You’re a fucking coward,” he says. “Lose control,” he shoves him back into the wall as he’s pushing himself off it. “Why are you even here, huh, to help Rachel, to protect Kory and Dick – you can’t even help yourself,”

Gar lurches off the wall with a wall trembling roar and shoves Jason so hard he flies back, off his feet and crashes to the ground. Jason rolls onto his side with a groan and shakes his head, pushing himself to sit up, and when he looks up, he finds Gar shrouded in darkness, behind the broken lamp growling from his stomach. “Gar?” he swallows.

Gar strolls out of the dark into the blue light, a majestic lion, with a thick mane, shiny eyes and sharp as fuck teeth, and as he inches closer, Jason feels his heart pumping harder and harder inside his head. He thought he’s was helping him, thought tough love was the only way to get him out of his own head, or at least, that’s the way he was taught, and now he was going to get eaten by a lion.

The lion stands in front of him, face to face, and Jason can feel its breath blowing his hair back and for minute, he wonders if Gar is there at all. It opens its mouth and Jason squeezes his eyes shut, snapping them open again when he hears a shuffle. “Gar – what the fuck,” he cries when the lion backs away, stretching out into a Deer right in front of his eyes, and then shrinking down to a snake.

“Fuck,” Jason scurries back on his hands as the snake slithers towards him, growing into a tiger, and standing on his back legs as he transforms into a grizzly bear, and back again. Jason doesn’t know what to do, watching in horror as Gar flits back between animals, back and forth like some fucked up sci-fi movie with no plot. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean-,” he climbs to feet and backs up against the wall. “you were right, this is fucked up, and you need help, I get it, you can turn back into Gar,”

The Grizzly bear runs towards the wall on all fours, standing on its back legs to slam its paws into the wall repeatedly trying to escape. 

Jason slowly peels himself off the wall. “I’m not afraid of you, man.” He says. “I know you’d never hurt me on purpose, you’re a sweet guy,” he says, “and to be honest, I don’t even know why we’re friends,” he takes a step closer to the bear. “I’m such an asshole all the time. I can’t help it. I’ve never had to worry about someone elses feelings before,” he takes another step. “cause I’ve always been on my own.”

The bear stops pounding on the walls and drops on all fours again, panting, and whimpering.

“I’m sorry, okay, but I need you to turn back and be my friend again, preferably before the others find out,” he laughs nervously. “at least before Kory finds out, I think she’d kick my as-,”

“Gar?” Kory is holding the door wide open with Donna behind her shoulder.

Gar collapses to the floor naked and Jason rushes to cover him with a robe hanging off the door, but his friend doesn’t look up, not even at the sound of Kory’s voice. He keeps his face buried in the floor and his knees up by his chest, cradling his knees. 

“Gar,” Kory cries, moving into the room and kneeling beside him.

“He won’t move.” Jason steps away to give them space. “I think he – I pushed him too hard.”

Kory turns over her shoulder, glowering at him. “Pushed him to do what?” she asks, and when he doesn’t answer, she turns back to Gar. “Hey,” she whispers, and then she flinches when a sob breaks free from him and his body starts to quake under her hands. “Gar, look at me.”

“He like, flipped out and started tuning into all these animals,” Jason exclaims “He couldn’t control it. I think it was,” he swallows, “my fault.”

“Get out,” Kory breathes out. “Both of you, please,” 

Jason glances at Donna and she nods, backing out of the room, so he follows behind, reluctantly, pulling the door closed.

Kory stands up as soon as she hears the soft click. “Stand up.” She says soft, but certainly, because it is not a request. “Gar,” she adds more weight to her voice. “Do you hear me? Stand on your feet.”

And he starts to move, unfolding himself slowly. Finally, he stands, holding his robe closed and looks up at her.

“I promised you we would talk when we got here,” Kory says. “But we didn't and I’m sorry.” She says, looking him in the eyes, so he can see she means it. “Now, tell me what’s been going on,” she reaches out as his gaze falls, lifting his chin up. “Don’t leave anything out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _love_ Gar, I promise, and his pain is almost over. There's only one thing left to do and that's talk to his parents, finally.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter and some of Angela's backstory. There's more of it to unravel.


	13. Big Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're not losing me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm so sorry this update took so long. I've been struggling with regular migraines which has made it hard to look at a screen longer than a few minutes, or have the lights on, or TV or music. I'm on preventative medication now which I am not keen on at all, but hopefully, it's only a temporary thing. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for your patience. I was finally able to edit this chapter and I hope you enjoy it. I'm going answer all my lovely reviews for the previous chapter now. Tiny warning, this chapter lightly references (not in detail) child abuse.

Rachel lurches forward with bile in her throat and stumbles off the bed, crashing to her knees. Her limbs feel like jelly; shaky and boneless, and she drifts along the light, cool air pressing to her skin, making her feel weightless. Strange. She almost calls out for Dick, but then she remembers where she is and who she’s with.

Daylight no longer slips under the door, but voices drone on from beyond it. She crawls towards it for air, her lungs empty and craving. The last thing she remembers is talking to Gar. Seeing his face. But now everything is muddled; day and night is upside down in her head and she can’t find her way right side up.

Sweat collects above her upper lip and bubbles at the tip of her nose. Her vision spots and she squeezes her eyes shut momentarily to right it. She’s done this before. Traveled. It’s how she reached Dawn and saw the inside of Hank - it’s how she’s connected to Dick and Kory, and Gar – projecting to him shouldn’t have take so much from her.

Shakily, she climbs to her feet and pries the door open with the last of her strength. She finds Bee and Trigon on the other side, whispering. His face is a perfect picture of calm and cunning, but Bee’s is proud, growing lustful when their eyes meet.

Trigon narrows his steel blue eyes on her. “Welcome back, child.”

“You don’t look so good,” Bee says, clucking her tongue against her teeth. “You’ve been out all day.” She hitches her head to the large windows, and Rachel follows her line of sight to the pitch black, starless sky.

“No,” Rachel shakes her head. “No, I,” she stutters. “I closed my eyes for five minutes.”

“It’s almost time,” Bee turns to Trigon and he nods. “They’ll all be down.”

“What is she talking about?” Rachel asks, moving closer to them, as they huddle beside the grand piano.

Bee turns to Rachel, her arms folded behind her back. “The Tiger. He was the easiest,” her eyes grow dark, sharp lines cut across her mouth as she smirks. “He was hurt deliciously good.”

Rachel’s heart seizes in her chest and it hurts, constricting painfully tight. Tears prickle at the corner of her eyes, but it can’t be true because she’d just seen Gar. Hadn’t she? Glancing over her shoulder at the window, at the night sky now peering in, she can’t be sure anymore. “Gar. Is he okay?”

Bee shakes her head slowly, enjoying this meltdown entirely too much. “No. Your pet is not okay.”

“Bee. Enough.” Trigon rolls his eyes. “This nightfall is a special one. Don’t ruin it.”

A hot flush of rage fills Rachel’s body, replacing the achy fatigue she swayed in moments before. The inky black lava shoots through her veins, spilling from her pores, and she flexes her hand, sending it for Bee. Wrapping the demon tight in its grip, around her body and neck, Rachel lifts her from the floor, walking towards her as she does.

“Now, now, Rachel.” Trigon begins, deadpan.

“What did you do to Gar?” Rachel growls and fire rushes up her throat, engulfing her entire head in its heat, and this feels good. This feels _so_ good. Slowly, she squeezes her hand into a fist, watching a horrified Bee begin to fold in on herself. “Tell me.”

Trigon watches on. Bee struggles for air, wheezing, and choking. And Rachel doesn’t care about either of them. All she cares about is this power in her hand and she could crush the puny demon in the palm of it, draining her of her last breath. She thinks about the sweet taste of her face being the last thing Bee sees and it brings a smile to her face. Adrenalin flushing her skin.

“Does this hurt?” She laughs then, and she doesn’t recognize her own voice when it comes out, but it doesn’t matter now. It’s a small price to pay to watch Bee’s face melt into a distorted mirror of awe and fear. “Does it?”

Bee wriggles defiantly, but still, and slowly, she wilts like a flower under a thunderstorm. Her skin ashen and her bright eyes eclipsed with darkness – Rachel’s darkness. The skin beneath begins to show under the erosion of delicate human flesh, ruddy and thin – and it’s the horrifying way in which she begins to die that stuns Rachel out of her the warm, comforting sensation of vengeance.

She lets go and Bee falls to her knees. She’s wheezing and coughing. Human flesh knits together over her rotting one and flushed pink returns to her cheeks, but her animalistic transformation is drowned out by Trigon’s triumphant applause of the show. 

“Beautiful.” He cheers. “Finally,” 

Bee hisses at Rachel, hunched over, her shoulders collapsing, and her body twisting into an unbearably inhuman shape, with her toes curled into the carpet. Her growl is guttural and demonic when she screeches. Her throat rustles like she’s breathing past rocks lodged in her tiny chest. It’s grizzly and heavy, and when she snarls, it isn’t teeth Rachel sees, but fangs, sharp and deadly. “You little tiger is done for.”

She lunges towards to Rachel, and Rachel opens her palm, summoning a portal that swirls, alive and throbbing, as she closes the distance. Flicking her hand at the feral demon masquerading as a woman, she sends her tumbling into the hole before closing it.

All that’s left in her sudden absence is silence, cool and deafening – that and the incessant thumping against her skull, like a song, calling to her to answer.

“My child,” Trigon says, but it’s not the voice she knows. It isn’t human anymore. “You are ready to take your place by my side.”

Rachel shivers against the chill of his voice hitting the back of her neck. She’s afraid to turn around and find something her eyes will etch into her memory forever. Her vision swims in a kaleidoscopic ocean and she sways – and it’s his large, lumpy, red hand that steadies her. Her eyes grow at the sight and she jumps out of his embrace, turning to face a beast who is also her father. “No.”

“Yes.” His voice booms and the large windows rattle. She sees hooves and claws, and horns.

“What’s happening to me?” She cries, moving back as he moves closer. Her vision continues to blur, and she reasons that it may be playing tricks on her, too, because she’s seeing two red pair of eyes and long jagged teeth among the fog spilling into her brain. 

“You have me a gift,” he says. “You restored me with your power.” He holds his arms out to welcome her into them. “I am returned.”

“No.” Rachel shouts. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t.” She turns to the window when a passing glint catches her eyes, watching as light begins to shrink, replacing it with dancing shadows, misshapen and alive. “What did you do?”

“It was you, daughter.” Trigon says with laughter in his voice. “It was you from the start. You were born to lead me back here to your world. Without you, my key, I never would’ve been able to return to this place – “ he walks towards her, his heavy hooves slamming down and rattling everything in the room. “when I was banished, in order to survive, my power was diminished, almost depleted to nothing.” She feels his big, rough, cold hand support her face and she realizes, she doesn’t have the power to flinch away from it. “Every time you used your power, I was able to siphon enough until I was restored and now it’s time, child, to take this world, and all worlds.”

The doors blow open, and in comes a tall, beautiful man, whose crow black hair floats in the air, as he does, like an ethereal apparition of an Angel’s wings. His face is chiselled to perfection, gold-porcelain skin, and full lips. His eyes are black as night and to Rachel – he’s a stranger, except somehow, he is not, and she knows that, too.

“Venit mors,” Trigon smiles, hooves stomping towards the young man and away from Rachel.

“Am I interrupting?” He asks Rachel directly, slipping by her father and reaching forward to catch her as the room tilts upside down. “I’m Asa,” his voice twists and fades as he blurs into nothing, his long black hair draping over her and enveloping her in darkness before she closes her eyes.

 

&&&&&

 

 

“That fucking bitch,” Kory growls and turns on her heels, a brewing storm ready to bring the walls down on Angela for what she’d done to Gar – for what she’s tried to do to all of them, but he grabs her wrist. “what?” she snaps, not at him, but his flinch instantly douses the fire behind her rib cage. “what?” she says softly.

“Don’t,” Gar cries. “it’s what she wants, right?”

“I think it’s time she got what she wanted,” Kory says through clenched teeth. “She gone through the effort; she should be rewarded.” She flexes her hands, vexed not only because Angela targeted, manipulated and terrified the most vulnerable of them, but because they had left him vulnerable, and she hadn’t recognized it soon enough to protect him from another trauma. “I’m going to kill her.”

“But she’s Rachel’s mom.” Gar whispers.

“Then what?” Kory breathes out. She watches him sit down in front of her and fold his legs. “What do you want to do?” she asks, following his lead and sitting opposite him. “Hide in here and hope whatever is going on with your power doesn’t happen again – fixes itself?”

They’re almost close enough to be knee to knee and Kory gulps at the tiny distance she should’ve felt long before his panic attack. Her stomach tightens at the thought of him being alone, in his head, in his emotions, for days – weeks, while she stood beside him. While Dick talked to him, while they all surrounded him and didn’t really see what was going on. Kory had caught glimpses and she’s been meaning to sit him down to talk about everything that had happened since he climbed into the back of Dick’s car without talking directly about it. But she never got the chance because ‘everything’ hadn’t stopped happening yet.

“I’d feel more comfortable sleeping in here,” Gar’s eyes drop to the floor. “the doors are pretty heavy, so I won’t be able to get out if I change.”

“Gar, stop,” Kory huffs out. “You’re not staying in here like some caged animal, it’s not happening, not because of her,”

“Kory,” Gar voice breaks and it gives her pause. “Please. I need this.”

“What you need is -,” she takes a breath and looks at him – at the shadows under his eyes and the tremble in his hands. “what you _needed_ was someone to talk to you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Gar offers, picking at the woolly thread of the robe draped over his knee.

“it’s not yours,” Kory adds. “None of it is. Not Rachel, not Angela and definitely not the asylum.” A shaky sigh rattles in her chest and she rolls her shoulders back. Her skin feels a little tight around her bones – none of them have really talked about that night. It wasn’t exactly an experience she wanted to relive voluntarily. Her body still remembers even now, and she flinches, reacting to that first cut against her skin – the sting, followed by excruciating pain that sent a blaze of fire through her body. She couldn’t move, or scream, or even pass out to escape.

 

“Kory?”

She opens her mouth, unsticking her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “Yeah.”

He shudders. “I see him sometimes – the man in asylum,” he confesses in a whisper and she reaches forward, pressing her palm against his knee. “when I sleep. When I brush my teeth – sometimes while I’m awake, too.” He tries for a smile and it breaks her heart. “But Rachel is-,”

“Hey,” Kory interjects. “You don’t have to do that,” she says carefully. “We can worry about you and Rachel at the same time. I’m just sorry we, – I didn’t notice how bad it was,”

“It’s okay,” he shrugs, smiling weakly.

Kory shakes her head. “No, Gar. It’s not. You and me, we’re friends.” He nods. “And if you’re struggling, or you’re afraid and you can’t talk to me, then I haven’t done my job as a friend.” Sighing heavily, she stands to her feet and holds her hand out to him. “But I’m going to fix that. We’re going to fix all of this, together.”

“How?”

“We’re going to train.” Kory pulls him up when he reaches for her hand. “If you ant control, Gar, you’re going to have to take it,” he nods, “but first, you need to purge all that bullshit Angela fed you about how dangerous you are.”

He looks down and Kory dips her head, drawing him back to her. 

“Do you trust me?” she asks, and he nods meekly. “I haven’t known you for a long time, but Angela – she doesn’t know you at all. She played on your fears. We all have them, but she magnified them, and left you to manifest them. Gar, you're the one who made it real. Do you understand that?”

Gar swallows. “Yeah. I think so.”

“The truth is, we’re all dangerous.” Kory says. “She knows nothing about your weird fascination with old movies,” he chuckles, and it makes her heart swell. There he is. “she doesn’t know about your loyalty, or your sometimes-annoying eternal optimism, but most of all,” she pats his chest. “she doesn’t know this.”

Gar eyes shine on her, his tears trickling down before he roughly wipes it dry.

“Don’t let her – don’t let _anyone_ take that away from you.” Kory cries. “Don’t let her make you afraid of who you are.” She frowns, clearing her throat because her chest aches. “Who you are is important – to all of us. To Rachel, and Dick. To me. You’re my lightweight drinking buddy, remember?”

Gar smiles, but it quickly fades, and he clenches his jaw. After a moment he moves closer, and Kory meets him halfway, pulling him into an embrace. She feels his warm stuttered breaths against her shoulder before he pulls away, too soon. “Thanks, Kory.”

“I really want to fucking kill her.” Kory growls as he straightens up and wipes his face.

He laughs, sniffling in between. “I really want to let you, but we might need her. There has to be a reason Trigon brought her back to life – and with the seals Rachel was talking about, and this Asa person. She’s connected to all of it.”

Kory nods, contemplatively. “You can – should stay in here for tonight,” she says, “only,” emphasizing the word with a narrowed gaze. “If it’ll make you feel calm. You did have a rough day, what with me collapsing, and then meeting a bunch of heroes,” he nods enthusiastically then, and she’s relieved to feel him coming back to himself. “and then it got rough again, - my point is, maybe the meditation room is the best place for you right now.”

“Thank you.” Gar smiles solemnly. “For being here.”

“Don’t ever let me get away with not being here,” Kory swallows hard. That he didn’t know he was important, or didn’t think he was enough for a week, a day, or even a minute doesn’t sit well with her. 

“Same,” Gar offers. 

“If anything, else comes up that isn’t typical teenage boy stuff, you need to tell me.” Kory presses her hands to her hips.

He raises a brow. “define typical,” he jabs himself in the chest, playful and light. “tiger slash potential animal kingdom over here,”

Kory laughs at that, harder than she expected and she grips his shoulder tight. “Let’s figure it out as we go along, OK?”

Gar smiles. “OK.”

 

 

&&&&&&

 

Hank steps out of the elevator and strolls back into the tower, into a dark foyer and kitchen. He’d been walking for hours trying to clear his head, arrange his thoughts, only to end up on 100 6th street in a bar way to swanky for the likes of him. But he stayed because it was Taco Tuesday, and because he was really fucking thirsty.

In the end, he was thankful because it was the interior aerialist, too gorgeous for her own good and persistently hanging upside down in front of him, her fingers scraping in his scalp until he got hard, that got him out of there without touching a drop. Her touch was alien and familiar, warm and chilling – reigniting a heat that churned in his groin, simultaneously turning his stomach into a triple knot of guilt.

“Buy me a drink?” Her voice had been husky, her dimples deep and her eyes sparkling on him. He knew then it was time to go home and face the music because this was indeed a sign, he was seeking a hole to fall into.

He settled for a chicken burrito form the truck opposite the tower and sat across from the building until it looked like an abandoned site, pitch black, and still. Assuming most of them were asleep or at least retired to their corners of the much too big and much too luxurious condo was when he decided he’d had enough of the night air and headed back.

Hank heads straight for the fridge. The brand-new machine buzzes gently, and the light escapes across him as he lifts a beer out of the pack with a clink. Letting the door swing shut, he huffs, turning to find Donna’s silhouette.

Dawn’s been looking for you,” Donna leans against the counter. “You’re a hard man to find, Hank.”

Hank sighs heavily, sliding the bottle on the counter. “Donna-,”

“You don’t want to talk about it,” she says, because she knows the drill by now.

“Not really,” he huffs out – it isn’t that he doesn’t want to talk though that’s in there, too, it’s more that he’s so jumbled up, he doesn’t know where one problem starts, and another begins. “I lost my temper again, end of story.”

“Should talk about it with someone,” Donna says. “If not Dawn – try your new best friend, Kory,”

He scoffs at that. “I think it’s a little too early in our relationship to be dumping my shit,” but he wants to be alone so bad it makes him itch, and the urge to break the neck of the bottle against the marble and swallow the beer down grows more compelling. 

“Look, Hank,”

“Jesus, Christ,” he says under his breath. “I just need a minute in this fucking place without talking strategy or demons or being pulled into bonding exercises, please,”

Donna holds her hands up. She surrenders. “I get it.” She says. “I understand it’s been a lot – this demon crap. But since we’re talking about needing a minute, think about giving Dick one or two from your bullshit. It’s been a long ass week and I don’t feel like being ring girl every time one of you want to spar.”

He nods even though she can’t see. “Sorry.”

“OK, then.” Donna sighs. “Goodnight.” 

Hank heads down the hall once Donna is out of sight, passing he and Dawn’s room for the balcony. He presses his forearms against the railing, the metal is thin and cold on his skin, and slightly digging, but he hopes the discomfort will take his mind of wanting to drink until he can’t see straight.

Staring at the bottle hanging over the edge, his throat dries up. He’s thirsty, and it isn’t the kind water can quench. This feels like every cell in his body is dehydrated, his veins empty and cracked like a desert and all he needs to make the pain go away is a tiny drop of this bitter liquid.

He swallows. He feels her. Light and warm. A comfort he’s used to and sometime haunted by, recently it’s been both at the same time. Hank squeezes the railing and closes his eyes as she comes closer to him because he doesn’t know if he has the mental or emotional capacity to fight this fight and deny himself a liquid reprieve at the same time.

“Dawn,” he groans.

“What was that?” she asks angrily and his stomach twists. “and, where were you?”

His grip tightens on the bottle and he flexes his back with a sigh.

“What is going on with you, Hank?” there are tears in her voice and it breaks him because he’s causing them. It feels like he’s always he one causing them.

“Nothing,” he spits out, and he steps back when Dawn comes into his space, turning him by his shoulder to look at her. 

“Hey. It’s me you’re talking to.” Dawn whispers.

The bottle grows warm against his palm. “is it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she cries.

“Means since we got here, you’re sounding more and more like you’re staying,” Hank shouts. “like maybe you don’t want all the things we talked about when we talked about getting out.”

“I still want that,” she cups his elbow and he looks down at her, shrugging away.

“But?”

“But nothing,” she frowns at him. “we help Dick get-,”

“Rachel,” Hank corrects.

She sighs deep. “We help get Rachel back, stop the _world_ from ending, and then we do as we planned and retire to the countryside.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” he goads.

Dawn throws her hands up in the air. “I don’t know, Hank,” she cries. “why don’t you tell me what I want – you sound sure.”

“Dick,” Hank spits.

“Dick what?” Dawn sighs and Hank turns away, facing the balcony and night air. “Are you serious?” her voice trembles and he glimpse the ripple of her porcelain face. “after all we’ve been through together, this, _still_.”

“Exactly,” he turns back to her. “after all we’ve been through together,” he wants to bite his tongue off. He’d rather lose it and never speak again than say what’s been on his mind for so many months, maybe even since they met. “We’ve become all we’ve been through – or maybe we were all we’ve been through from the beginning,”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re little experiment with Dick. It’s your M.O. Dawn. You beeline for the most fucked up asshole you can find. I guess it’s easier to hide your own shit if there’s someone more fucked up than you.” He clenches his fist because this hurts, hearing his thoughts out loud fucking hurts. “You want to stitch me up and I let you because I get to pretend your fixing everything. You don’t just go out there to help people either, you want to go out there and break shit-,”

“And what?” Dawn growls. “You and I both know how much you like to break shit,” she scrubs her hand over her face. She’s exhausted. He’s exhausted, and they’re exhausting him. “But that’s not enough, so you drink and pop pills until you’re pissing it.”

“You know, I can’t decide if you take after you mom, addicted to terrible men or your father, addicted to hurting people.”

Dawn slaps him across the face and huffs out a sob. "Don't you ever talk about my mom like that."

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean that. Not like that.”

“Yes, you did,” she cries. “Maybe not all of you, but some of you,” and he dares to look up at her tearful eyes and tight neck. “How long have you been holding that in?” when he says nothing, her shoulders fall. “Is this Angela – it is, isn’t it? I saw you with her earlier, before Dick called you away.”

“It’s not Angela.”

“What did she say about us?” Dawn presses. “About me?”

“It’s not Angela.” He yells. "It's us."

“Where the fuck is all this coming from?” Dawn admonishes.

“It’s time we faced the truth,” Hank says softly, even though he doesn’t want to face the truth. Doesn’t want it to be true.

“What truth Hank?” Dawn forces through clenched teeth. “That we’re not good together? We’re not good out there? Is that the truth? Because it’s not true. It’s not. We are good. We’ve done some good.”

“Have we?”

“Haven’t we?”

“I think we both needed it – this,” he swallows. “I think what we’re doing out there isn’t just about helping people, it’s selfish and dark and unspoken – and it isn’t helping,” he chokes back a sob. “not me and least of all you. If it was, I wouldn’t want to drink and fight and fuck to forget-,”

“What?” Dawn closes the gap between them, shoves her face under his. “Hank, did you-,”

“No,” He answers certainly. “I would never do that to you.” He looks at her. “But how do you tell the woman you’re in love with that tonight you wanted to bury yourself inside another woman because doesn’t know who or what I am.”

“What are you, Hank? An asshole.” Dawn yells. “Everyone knows that, even Kory and she’s known you all of five minutes. What are you?” she goads. “Huh. Tell me.”

“Fucked.” Hank cries. “Destroyed.” He wants to take it back already, not just because Dawn flinched at the words but because now, they’re out in the open and real again. “But she didn’t see that because she doesn’t know how, every day I wake up, he’s the first thing -,” his breath trembles. “and I feel sick to my stomach all over again,” jabbing a thumb into his chest, he fights back tears. “because I know this thing inside of me, that he put there, is always going to be there.”

Dawn’s tears fall and she reaches for him, but he flinches under her touch. “Hank,”

“No,” Hank growls. “Don’t you fucking pity me.”

“You know that I don’t,” Dawn says firmly. “I love you.” She carefully closes the gap between them, and he lets her. “Your pain is mine, too. Your shame, your guilt – we carry together, remember?”

“it was supposed to make me feel better,” he forces out, “what we did.” He cries. “but somehow, it’s worse – because he doesn’t have to live with it anymore, and I – do. I’m stuck with this reminder that I’m – that he – took something from me that I can’t get back – and then Don was taken and I,” he squeezes the neck of the bottle. “and you,”

“You’re not losing me.”

“I’ve gone over it again and again in my head,” Hank cries. “trying to wrap my head around losing you, every waking thought I have is about that, or him, or Don.”

Dawn grips his face with both hands. “You are not losing me.”

“We’re not good for each other.” He whispers. 

“You’re good,” Dawn says. “and I wish for just two seconds you could see it. You’re still here despite everything he did to you. He couldn’t destroy you. That’s why you and Don were able to do all the good you did, because you didn’t let him win. You didn’t want to let anyone like him win, ever again.”

"You're still doing it." He frowns. “What’s keeping you here, Dawn?” Her brows furrow in confusion and he holds her hands against his face, gently pulling them away. “Me?” he goads. “Because I’m such a fucking catch? Huh? Or is it because trying to mend me stops you from looking at where you might be a little broken?” he swallows. “Your mother died right in front of you with my brother – and ever since, you’ve been burying it wherever you could. Me. Dick. Dove.”

Dawn backs away from him. “That’s not true,”

“I’ve spent the better half of four years trying to ignore what this is between us and I think I finally know.”

“S’plain it to me,” she says with defiance.

“You need the suit – and I need you.” Hank chokes out. “I need you to keep trying to fix what’s broken and you need to keep trying to heal me because you think it’ll heal you. We both knew, somewhere, deep down, we were jamming all that pain into the suit.”

“Are you saying we’re not real – that we don’t love each other,” Dawn asks with incredulity and rage.

“No. I love you. I love you with everything in me.” He huffs out. “I’m saying you – we need more. I want more for you than me, than just coping because that’s what this is, maybe what it’s always been, just trying to cope.”

“No, that's not it.”

“From the moment we met, it’s been about our pain.” Hank says. “and if we don’t figure out a way to be something else, something more than a coping mechanism for each other, it’ll kill us both. I can’t afford to lose you – lose this – and that’s why I have to. And you have to lose me. Don’t you see that?”

Dawn presses her lips together and her mouth sags, tears dripping off her chin. 

“Dawn,” her names dies on his lips. “we gotta let go. You gotta let me let you go.”

“You’re right,” she whispers. “This isn’t working anymore.”

Hank’s chest squeezes the air out of him. Here he is, in the moment he predicted since the moment he let her into his apartment. 

“I’m not sure it ever did.” He hands her the bottle and steps off the balcony, leaving her alone in the night because he can’t bear to watch her cry, can’t bear to say the words goodbye. He knew one day he would lose Dawn, even in the very beginning – to his anger and shame, and guilt – it was pessimistic but also a little true that he always lost the thing he loved, so from the moment they fell in love, he started prepping himself to lose her.

She knew too much. Every scar. Every wound. Every bleed. Of a boy she would never meet, but that had met her, and was rescued by her. 

He drank to deprive himself of the sobering thoughts that one day he would have to rescue himself or die trying, and that in order to do that, he would have to let go of his only lifeline in this world.

 

 

&&&&&&

 

Rachel blinks her eyes open and flickers them around the room, finding herself alone. Sighing, she slowly moves off the suede sofa and pushes herself up onto her feet, making her way over to the large windows where she’d watched the light fade away. She was hoping she had dreamt up the whole thing – the sky, demon daddy, and the floating shadow that caught her in his arms but –

“You’re awake,” a voice says, and she turns to face the man who caught her. “Trigon has been siphoning power from you for a while. I’m surprised, you’re still able to move.”

Rachel swallows and leans her palms against the window, sighing when she feels the cool glass against her burning hot hands. “Doesn’t matter. I’m going to stop him. And you. Whoever you are.”

“I’m a friend,” he says simply, and she hears the smile in his voice.

Her heart sinks as she watches beyond the buildings. “What has he done?” she turns to him. She observes his eyes when they fall on her, obsidian black, but warm – finely cut cheekbones and a pouty mouth almost completely enveloped in grizzly hair. Eyebrows thick and arched high – he mostly looks normal, but he's too beauriful, besides, she knows he is anything but, she can feel it. Smell it. She fears him and yet he has kind eyes that tell her not to. “Who are you?”

“Asa,” Trigon says, revealing himself, back in human form. “and you’re going to think it rude he didn’t introduce himself to you sooner-,”

Rachel turns away from Asa to face her father. 

Trigon smiles impressively, with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Rachel, meet your brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try my best to get the next chapter up in a week, in the meantime, what did you think of this angsty addition? I am a angst addict it seems.


	14. When The Party's Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loose ends need tying with a showdown imminent.
> 
> A chapter in which, you find out where some of the Titans' heads are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR! I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas break, even if you don’t celebrate it. Time ceases to exist during the holidays, doesn’t it? I can only thank you all for waiting so patiently for this update.
> 
> If you need a, “Previously on The Raven,” pertaining to this chapter, here it is: Hank broke up with Dawn, Gar wants to sleep in the meditation room for safety measures after his freak out, and Dick did promise Kory a conversation before he went to see Bruce.

Dick watches Dawn chase after Hank and sighs. He’s failing miserably at this leadership gig, and he knows it, and worse, he knows they know it. Instead of fighting with Hank over who was right, he should’ve been checking Gar was okay, and getting the others up to speed on the information he learned about Angela and her family. 

He starts down the hall to do what he should’ve done first and check on Gar when Jason comes barrelling his way, face reddened and eyes shiny. “Jason?” he calls as the boy passes him. 

“I fucked up,” he turns to Dick, walking backwards. “But what’s new, right? I’m the fuck up wherever I go,” he scoffs. “You can all cheer when I’m gone,”

“Jason,” Dick moves towards him. 

“No, man,” Jason throws his arms up in the air. “I’m outta here,” he spins on his heel, throwing, “See you around, Robin.” Over his shoulder as he heads for the stairs.

“Let me try,” Donna comes up behind Dick, heading in the direction Jason disappeared. "You and Hank are benched until further notice." She says, her mouth quirking up at him.

Dick’s shoulders slump, and he sighs. “Keep him out of Hank’s way, if you can,” Donna rolls her eyes at him and points to Hank as he heads for the elevators.

“Looks like I won’t have to.”

Was the moon in retrograde or was it him tempting everyone’s dispositions to flip upside down? He waves Donna off and continues down the hall, ignoring the rattle of Dawn’s door as she slams it shut. He’s on his way to the training room when he finds the meditation room ajar and hears voices slipping out. Swallowing, he starts toward it and stops short of going in, waiting by the door.

“Define typical,” Gar chuckles. “Tiger slash potential animal kingdom over here,”

Kory laughs at that. “Let’s figure it out as we go along, okay?”

Gar smiles. “Yeah. Okay.”

Dick takes a breath and raps his knuckle against the door. “Can I come in?” he watches, offering a pitiful smile when Gar nods, and steps in. “Everything okay?”

“For now,” Gar teases.

“It will be,” Kory rubs his shoulder, and turns to Dick. “What happened with Bruce?”

Dick groans. “Long story,”

“Well,” Kory crosses the room and holds the door open for them both. “Mine isn’t,”

Dick follows Kory into the kitchen with Gar in tow. He watches her flip through the pages of her book, and his mind wanders off, back to Trigon, and Angela and Rachel. The trifecta. A demon, a child and her mother – one who named her baby after her own mother, one who ran away and tried to return to her parents, who placed her only child in the hands of a friend and told her not to look back. 

His brain is splintered trying to connect the dots. Trying to figure out how a young woman afraid became a loyal worshiper.

Kory finds what she’s looking for and glances over her shoulder at him. He takes the cue and leans over, glancing at the symbols and pictures, and Gar does the same.

“You were right,” Kory says. “He needed her for a reason, and this is it – he needed her power to resurrect his own,” she explains.

Dick swallows. “So, he took her powers away? Raven’s gone?”

“No,” Kory sighs. “She is Raven.”

“No,” Gar cries, his eyes wild. “She can’t be.”

“In order for him to gain her power,” Kory straightens her back. “She’d have to be using them, at least temporarily.”

Dick sighs. “So, we have to assume, he could be at full power, or at least more powerful than he was when she pulled him out.”

“It’s because of me,” Gar says. “She sensed my -,” he clears his throat, “anxiety, and she used her power to get to me, it was like dreaming wide awake,”

“She came to you,” Kory’s eyes grow, and desperation weighs her voice down. “What did she say? Was she alright? Is she okay?”

Gar nods, sniffling. “I think so. Maybe she was too okay, now I think about it. I don’t know.” He grips his head. “Trigon is looking for a final seal, or breaking seals, she said there are at least four but there could’ve been more. I don’t know what it means.”

“Like the seals of hell,” Dick sits down, and Gar follows suit, sluggish while moving around the table to sit.

Kory drops the book on the table.

“What’s this word mean?” Gar points to a word.

“D’harma,”Kory says. “It means spirit or soul.” She looks at Dick. “Time to tell me that long story.”

Dick sighs and fills her in about the Lieutenant and the slaughter of Angela’s family shortly after she gave birth to Rachel, and Gar recites as much as he can about Rachel’s projection. In his mind there are still missing pieces to the story, the pieces that matter the most: why was Angela resurrected and how was Trigon banished the first time?

He glances at his watch, and it reads 2am. Then he watches Gar, sees the shadows under his eyes as he rubs his knuckles into them. “We should call it for now – look at all of this tomorrow with fresh eyes.”

Gar shoots up from his chair.

“Um, Kory,” Dick swallows. “Can we talk?”

Kory pauses, takes him in and nods. “But first, I need to check on Angela. I think we’ve had enough excitement for the night, we don’t need a runaway corpse.”

Dick huffs out chuckle and watches her leave, and then he turns to Gar once she’s behind the door. “Hey – you okay?”

“I think so,” Gar offers a tired smile. “Are you and Hank going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Dick sighs, reaching for Gar’s shoulder and squeezes lightly. “We’re going to deal with what Angela did,” he swallows when the boy nods, dropping his gaze. “I’m sorry, Gar,” his eyes shoot back up, big with surprise, and it hurts his heart to think being apologized to is an exception and not a rule. “I know you’re not a kid, but still, I hope you don’t mind that I feel responsible for you, for your safety,” he huffs out the air in chest, “I haven’t done a good job of it lately, but I’ll do better than tonight, given another chance. If it's that okay with you?”

Gar smiles, and nods, fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt. "Yeah. Okay." 

“I’m with Kory, we’re going to figure this out and deal with your powers, but my main focus is you - Gar,” he drops his hand. “Now, go get some sleep.”

“Dick,” Gar whispers. “Do you still think we’ll get Rachel back – as – herself?”

“Hey,” Dick says. “Don’t worry. We’ll have her back in no time.”

Gar nods. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

TRTRTRTRTRTR 

When Dick leaves his bathroom, he finds Kory sitting at the end of his bed. She unzips her boots, one after the other and toes the heel off before flicking them away, and he can’t help smiling at how natural it all feels. Her in his room, in his bed. How no words had to be exchanged for them to share a room, so he wasn't left scrambling to find a way to ask her to stay.

Without turning to find him, she shifts back a little. “Do the dead need sleep?” and he chuckles at that. “Cause she’s sleeping soundlessly and it’s making me want to rip her head off.”

“Or she’s faking,” he flicks the bathroom light off and pads across the room to draw the curtains.

“I really think one of us should stay in that meditation room with him, or at least outside it,” Kory crosses her arms over her chest. “You said it had a remote thingy to make the wall transparent,”

Dick sighs, turning to her. “I think we need to let him do this,” he crosses the room as she scoots back onto the bed and folds her legs, and he joins her, sitting on the edge. “it’s what he wants. Maybe it’ll help him feel in control again – of himself and the animal.”

Kory nods and pulls in a deep breath. He knows she understands that Gar needs this, but that she also wants him to know he can need them too, and the sentiment makes his chest warm. He looks away when she glances at him and smiles. “Everything alright, Grayson?”

“Yeah,” Dick rubs both hands down his face. Exhaustion has lost all sense of meaning. He is now beyond it, and on autopilot. “No, but it will be.”

Kory reaches over, skating her fingers along the nape of his neck, teasing the hair starting there, and he’s unable to resist leaning into her touch. “You work things out with Bruce?”

He frowns, with a heavy sigh in his chest. “I think we’ll always be working things out, but it’s a start,”

“I’m glad,” Kory whispers, drawing gentle patterns along the back of neck, down to his shoulder blades.

His hands are restless against his thighs, his fingers flexing to keep from taking the night in another direction, as her touch awakens him. He promised himself. Hell, he promised her that when he got back from Gotham they would talk – but more than that, he would. Honestly. Openly. 

He's been imagining a time when he and Kory will be able to talk about something that isn’t related to Bruce, or Rachel, or Gar and the end of the world.

And that’s how he knows. This whisper of a thing between them, quiet but warm and blooming under his ribs, is a promise of something more, something whole and terrifying. Maybe, he’s even brave enough to admit in the privacy of his mind that he knew there was something there outside the motel room, when she challenged him to open up. But he was too afraid it would consume him like everything did, and then he’d never find himself, and who he’s really meant to be.

He spent a lot of time while growing up, counting his losses, but he doesn't want to do that anymore.

“Grayson,” Kory waves her hand in front of his face and he slips back into the room. “What’s on your mind?”

“You,” he blurts, and then clears his throat. Her smile is dazzling, and he wants to kiss it. “I mean – do you still want to talk?”

“Yeah.” Kory’s eyes soften, her smile now faint but still present, and she shifts a little closer to him, pulling her knees up against her chest. “If you still want to,”

Dick inhales and nods. This is by far the most terrifying thing he’s ever attempted, when anything he shares could potentially make her recoil away from him, ruining any chance of them growing closer. It’s a risk but weighed against the chance of her _knowing_ him, which he wants more than anything, and _not_ recoiling, tips the scales towards his hopes she won’t. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Why not with Trigon’s dream,” the small crease in her forehead deepens. “I was in it and something happened that scared you. I want to know what it is.” She swallows. “and then go backward from there,”

Dick huffs out a breath, and then nods. “OK.”

TRTRTRTRTRTR 

Donna skips down the steps and slams into the double doors of the garage. Jason’s mounted on the motorcycle and is squeezing a helmet over his head. The engine is rumbling, ready to go, and one foot is pressed into the floor. “You still here?” she chides.

Jason looks at her through the glass, and leans forward, thrusting the handlebars and revving the engine.

“Go ahead, then,” Donna takes a step back, and flicks the button on the wall beside the swinging doors. The street exit door, masquerading as a wall shifts, sliding up into the ceiling, and letting the night air in. “But we both know you don’t want to leave.”

Cars zip passed, pedestrians huddle across in the cold, some glancing in with fleeting curiosity.

“Oh, yeah?” Jason shouts over the steady rumble of his bike. “Cause you and me, have been best fucking buds since I got here,”

“No,” Donna shrugs, “no, but I know you because I know an orphan when I see one,” she juts her head over her shoulder at double doors she came in through. “seems to be the running theme around here, or haven’t you noticed?”

Jason turns the motorcycle off, and pulls his helmet off, hooking it on the handlebar. “I didn’t mean to fuck things up – it just happens,”

“I didn’t think you did,” Donna takes a step closer to him.

“Yeah, well, Kory probably thinks I’m a gigantic asshole now,”

“Oh,” Donna laughs, “so you can read minds now,” when he drops his gaze like a child being scolded, the laugh dies on her lips and her heart clenches. “or are you just used to being the default fall person every time an adult is around?” he doesn’t reply, but the look in his eye gives him away. Donna perches on the end of Dick’s Porsche. “Look, Jason,” she huffs, “you can go if you want, I’m not going to stop you – but if you run every time things get a little uncomfortable for you,” finally, he looks her in the eyes, and she shrugs. “You may as well never get off that bike, and just keep going forever,”

“What’s the fucking alternative, huh?” Jason growls. “Wonder girl,”

“Discomfort,” Donna says, simply, and folds her arms. “A little effort,” she adds to the silence as he contemplates her. “If you’re such a fuck up, why don’t you try righting one or two of them for a change and see where it gets you.”

Jason swallows.

“We all screw up, believe it or not, even the adults.” Donna scoffs. “Even when we know better.” Standing up, she kicks her boot against the ground, scuffing the sole as she heads towards the street. “What matters is how we clean up after ourselves, and how much it matters to us to make things right again.”

“Where’re you going this time of night?” Jason calls.

“Out to find me a big, blonde dummy,” Donna groans, glancing over her shoulder at him. “I’m not out of pep talks just yet,” she winks. “See you around, kid.”

TRTRTRTRTRTR 

Gar sighs and drops his large duvet and pillows into the corner of the meditation room, away from the main door and frosted window. He wonders what Mr. Wayne, aka Batman would think of his expensive, Egyptian threaded quilts being laid out on the floor like a sleeping bag.

“Probably has something in this place made from animal fur,” he mutters, “so we’re even.” Quickly, Gar bars his mouth shut with both hands. “I just shaded Batman.” His eyes are wide. He’s horrified, and then he's shrugging with his face because, “technically, Batman has nothing to do with this – Bruce is the Billionaire, and he is a billionaire so what's one quilt?”

He frowns, wondering if Batman and Bruce are split down the middle, and which side informs the other side. But then he decides he doesn’t care because he met Bruce ‘what the frick’ Wayne in his manor. Then the Flash whooshed in and the pure excitement almost destroyed his bowel, and hairline. And just when he thought his 'little boy with action figures' heart couldn’t take anymore – SUPERMAN. WONDERWOMAN. SUPERWONDER. MANWOMAN OR WHATEVER. AT THE SAME TIME.

They were there. He was there. They were all there together and he could cry, or squeal, or something. 

He lets the pure joy of it out and jumps into the air, flinching when he comes back down, hopping on one foot when he a pinch of glass prickles. Pressing his palm against the wall, he plucks it out and watches a tiny dot of blood bubble out. He’d tried to clean up the shattered lamp, before he set up for bed, but it turns out, he didn’t get everything. 

A pounding fist on the door pulls him out of his highly-strung, euphoric, albeit painful trance. He rolls his eyes and reaches down by his pillow for the remote that controls the mood settings of the room. With the press of a button, the frosty, floor to ceiling window bleeds clear. “Oh,” he finds Jason on the other side, holding his own duvet in the air (okay, so what's two expensive quilts to a billionaire?) with Gar’s switch in his other hand.

“You forgot your game,”

“I don’t need company,” Gar says. “I already told Dick and Kory. I’ll be fine.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “I’m staying, so shut up,” 

Gar stares, and Jason stares back, and he knows he isn’t going to win, so he huffs out, “fine, but you stay on that side,” dragging his duvet and pillows across the room, he dumps it against the window.

Jason shakes the switch. “I beat your highest score by the way, and I don’t even play,”

“You didn’t,” Gar’s eyes pop open and the tiredness that wore down on him moments before fades away. 

“I did.”

Gar rushes to the door and snatches it to check the score, walking back to the window, and then he looks up at Jason with horror etched on his face. “Are you kidding me?” he watches Jason busy himself with a little makeshift bed up against the window. “How is this even possible?”

“I’m just good,” Jason wriggles his eyebrows and slumps down on the floor “at everything,”

Gar rolls his eyes. “Not everything,” he says, “Doctor Doolittle.”

Jason snaps his head up at Gar, surprised, and Gar laughs entirely too hard at him.

“Too soon?”

Jason laughs, too. “Yeah, too soon. Asshole.”

Gar slumps down beside him with a sheet of glass between them and huddles up close, so Jason can watch him regain his title and weep.

TRTRTRTRTRTR 

Dick turns over with a sleepy sigh, sliding his hand across the bed for Kory. He opens his eyes when he finds a cold, empty space instead, and sits up. “Kory?”

His confession to her made his chest a little tight, but he’d forged on and told her everything. The night his parents were killed, Clay and how he ended up with Bruce, Tony Zucco’s death – he even told her about his son returning to seek revenge by kidnapping Clay, and when she didn’t recoil, the knot in his chest loosened.

She crawled up the bed and pulled him up with her, resting her head on his chest and told him stories about the siblings she wished she was closer to and the mother she missed, and the tournaments she remembered. He closed his eyes and listened her to fall asleep, with his arm around her back, keeping her against him until the warmth of her body induced his own slumber.

Sometime after, in the pitch black of the room, he was roused from sleep by her lips pressing to his side, and her soft, warm hands bunching his shirt up over his ribs. She left a wet trail along his skin, until she was over him, and their mouths crashed together in a sudden, desperate need to feel each other. 

She lifted her arms above her head as he hurried her top off and pressed her naked body to his. His hands spread across warm, supple skin, grabbing and pulling, their breaths loud and hot, fingers intertwined, pelvis to pelvis until they were shaking apart, bodies flushed with heat and sleeked with sweat. Afterward, he clung to her, arms wrapped tight, legs entangled, warm and safe.

He decides he won’t jump to conclusions about why he’s waking up alone because he’s turning over a new leaf, where he doesn’t turn wins into losses because he’s afraid it won't last. No more catastrophizing, when Kory could be sipping on coffee in the kitchen, rather than abandoning him because he let her see him.

He slips out of the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes and finds Dawn coming up the hallway with a bowl of cereal between her palms. Raising an eyebrow, he scoffs. “Dawn? Where’s Hank?”

“He uh, went out again. Clearing his head.” Dawn sniffles quickly, rubbing her sleeve over her cheek, but he already knows cereal at this time of night is a ritual she and Donna share when one of them is unraveling. “You’re up late. Are you okay?”

Dick nods. “Are you?” he asks, because he realizes they haven’t talked in a while, especially not since she woke up out of her coma. Up close, he can see her hair in half a plait down her shoulder and her red, puffy eyes.

She nods, and her yes is almost inaudible. “How are you?” she laughs. “Feels weird saying that somehow, but I know you must have gone through a lot with Trigon, all of you-,” scratching her eyebrow, she shifts back onto her heel and Dick senses a storm brewing under her skin, he can practically feel her vibrating. “You can be aloof at the best of times, but you’ve been uncharacteristically distant since Hank and I got here.”

“That's because I owe you an apology. I’m sorry,” Dick interjects. “Not just about those people who hurt you trying to get to Rachel, about everything,” he breathes out. “What Hank said earlier, about us, it made me realize, I never said sorry about the way I left things after we –” he coughs. “we were friends and I crossed the line and there were consequences.”

Dawn shovels a big spoon of cereal into her mouth. “I don’t know if I should be offended or embarrassed for you,” she says around a mouthful of milk and coco puffs.

Dick furrows his eyebrows.

“I was there too. We both crossed a line. I wasn’t persuaded and I didn’t have my arm twisted. We both had our reasons, and yes,” she sighs. “I did get my feelings hurt. Did you handle the situation well afterwards? Absolutely not, it was a shitty situation, but we’re adults now, Dick. And we were always friends first. So, I’m sorry if you’ve been carrying that around so long, but you can put it down now, cause we’re good.”

“Yeah?”

Dawn smiles. “Yeah.”

“OK. Er, I'm here, if you ever need to talk.” Dick smiles back, watching after her as she passes him with her bowl pressed tight to her chest.

“Oh, and Dick,” Dawn turns on her heel, and points back to his room. “Kory? I don’t know how you pulled it off, but thank you, on behalf of all of us,” she points her spoon into her chest. “Big girl crush right now,”

Dick laughs. “Same.” 

"Oh," she sings. "Honesty. I'm liking the new, Dick. I hope he sticks around."

Me too, he thinks, and waves. “Night.” 

He waits for her door to close and heads towards the meditation room where he finds Jason wiped out and an empty heap of sheets on the other side of the glass. He hears faint banging and follows the noise to the training room. He finds himself smiling at Kory and Gar training, he’s learning so fast and she’s challenging him like a pro.

He watches quietly for a while, noting Gar’s strengths and weaknesses. While he has his defense down, he still needs to master his offense, but with how quickly he picks up on his opponent’s cues, maybe it won’t be a skill that takes him long to acquire.

“You’re fast,” Kory pants, leaning down to help him off the floor. “I bet you’ll sleep now.”

Gar is panting hard, his chest heaving as he sucks air back into his lungs, trying to get his breath even again. He nods, words lost between the long pulls of air into his nose.

Kory cups his shoulder. “You got this.”

“Thanks, Kory.” Gar picks up his bottle of water and makes his way to the door. Dick leans off the doorjamb and steps in. “Goodnight,” he says, sweat bubbling along his hairline and seeping into his shirt.

“Night,” Dick mutters as he passes, smiling with pride that Gar knew he was there. Maybe he was more in control of the animals and their instincts than he was giving himself credit for. Dick turns to Kory. “Everything okay?”

Kory nods. “He couldn’t sleep.” She says. “I guess after the stuff we found out tonight, he’s feeling a little restless.”

Dick takes a step closer, pushing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “I meant you,” he swallows. “You were tossing and turning a lot, and then then you disappeared.”

Kory gulps, and then shrugs. “Guess, I’m restless, too.” He nods, and she swirls her tongue across her teeth, her eyes brightening when she giggles. “Dick Grayson, were you worried you were a booty call?”

Dick scoffs, reaching up to scratch an itch along his jaw. “I’m perfectly fine with being your booty call,” and the shadow that falls over her eyes makes his heart flip.

She smiles. “Good to know.”

“But,” Dick clears his throat, dropping his gaze to the mat. “If we ever became more – I would be okay with that too – more than okay, actually.” Finally, he risks looking at her eyes and they’re sparkling at him with same gentle fire he saw outside the motel, and just like it did then, warms his skin from the inside out.

“Also, good to know,” Kory takes a step closer, until they’re almost chest to chest, and she adds, “you know, you’re the only one who hasn’t trained yet.”

He laughs. “It’s late.”

“If you’re too tired, I understand.” She teases, scratching a line down the center of his chest with her finger. “An old man needs his rest,”

“Is that all you’ve got,” Dick licks his lips, stepping into her space and she presses her toes onto his feet.

She leans close, and her lips threaten to touch his. “I’m not sure you want to know what I’ve got,”

Dick’s smile is wide, he absolutely wants to know what she has, all the time, if it’s just for him. “OK,” he leans down when she steps back, and pulls his socks off, one by one, and then he pulls his shirt off and flings it at her feet.

Kory smirks, and shoves it off the mat with her foot. “You need your shirt off?”

Dick opens his stance, squats a little and holds his fists under his chin. “Do you talk dirty to the others too or is it reserved for me?”

Kory wriggles her eyebrows. “Whichever turns you on more,” she runs at him, and they connect, block for block. Blow for blow. 

Adrenaline floods his veins as they dance around the mat. She’s so fast, he can't let up or lose a second of his focus, his body tensed to protect himself.

The room grows stuffy and hot, sweat bubbles on skin, but their energy doesn’t spend. Her kicks are swift and clean, and he somersaults out of their path, catching her whenever he can and locking her against him until she finds a way to wriggle out.

Her breasts bob up and down as she pants and it catches his eye. It’s in that moment he allows himself to lust after her that she gets through his defenses with a flying knee to the chest, forcing him to stumble backwards and land.

He laughs as she celebrates with a cartwheel, but he’s too tired to move. “I win.” She says, as she walks over to him, offering a helping hand.

Dick sweeps his leg across hers and she lands beside him with a thud. His quick to roll on top of her, pinning her hips down with his and holding her arms above her head. “What were you saying?”

Kory wriggles her hips and his groin aches. “Okay,” she sighs, and he lets go of her arms, which proves to be a mistake when she thrusts her hips up, tilting him up and over her. He reaches forward, slamming his palms into the mat to save himself from face planting, and Kory wraps her arms around his midsection, shifting up and flips him back onto his back. “I was saying,” she leans close. “I win. Must be really tired.”

“Must be,” Dick says, closing his eyes as she comes down on him, pressing her lips against his. Dick curls an arm around her back. “I guess I could take into account your injuries,” she whispers against his lips, before kissing him again, deeper this time. Warmer.

“Uh huh,” he lifts his head off the mat, chasing her mouth as she leans back, and captures her breath. He slides his tongue in, pulling her back down with him, and she moans, pushing her hips forward over his crouch. He can feel how eager and warm she is.

“Or,” Kory presses her hand against his chest, pulling away to catch her breath. “maybe it’s a tie.”

Her eyes are full of sparkle when she looks at him and that's how he knows, this whisper of a thing between them, quiet and warm, and blooming under his rib cage, is a promise of something more. Something whole and terrifying, all-consuming, but grounding. He is definitely not going to count his loses anymore. Not when Kory is on top of him, seeing him completely, her lips swollen from kissing him, like maybe she is falling in love with him the way he might be falling in love with her.

“No,” Dick whispers, running his fingers along the nape of her neck and drawing her back to his mouth. His other hand roaming under her top to find the clasp of her bra. “you win.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: #BlackHoleSun (It's already written, so fear not, it won't be another 84 years)

**Author's Note:**

> Comment (let's talk) kudo, bookmark and/or sub if you like what you read!


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